Deke
by Blind Squirrel
Summary: "Deke": A Canadian Term meaning "To deceive someone". After a life altering event, Ivan is forced to move to Canada, leaving behind everything he knows and loves. Matthew and his twin Alfred hide in plain sight from a past that cuts deep.
1. Chapter 1

DEKE by Sony_Mouse

AN: Based on the Hitachi Twins from Ouran High School (the idea anyways). Kinda wondered what it would be like if Matthew was trying to keep people confused about who he was, but at the same time badly wanting someone to recognize him.

**To "**_**Deke**_**": **an ice hockey technique which a player uses to get past an opponent or "fake out" an opposing player.

In Canada, the term _deke_ has come to mean** "**_**To deceive someone**_**"**

_That night, the cold moon gently illuminated all the little snowflakes on their journey from the sky to the silver locks of a sad, confused little boy. _

"_Grandpa, I don't want you to leave" The little boy's bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to escape from the corners of his eyes. _

_The large man gently placed his hand on his young grandson, trying to give him the confidence he did not feel. _

"_And I do not want to leave you my strong, brave Ivan. But the choice has been taken from me. And while I am gone you will need to be even braver to watch after your Papa and your sisters. Do you think you can do that?" _

_The little boy ignored the question, sniffling quietly as he struggled to keep from latching onto his grandfather and never letting him go. _

"_Why can't I go with you, why can't you write me, why… why won't you be coming back?" The little boy's voice waivered along with his resolve._

_The older man looked torn, perhaps rethinking his plan of leaving, but he knew there was no other choice. _

"_Because my little brave Ivan, there may not be another chance for your old grandpa to leave, but I promise you… as much sadness as it brings me to go, I will find a way to bring you and everyone else with me to Canada. One day, we'll all be together again. The journey will be long, but remember… remember that even when our hearts are breaking, we must carry on. One foot in front of the other". _

_The little boy's eyes closed in pain, as tears poured forth. He stepped back and angrily slapped his grandfather's hand away. _

"_No! No! No! I don't want to go to Canada and leave mama behind and I don't want YOU to leave. I hate stupid Canada, and I hate YOU!"_

**Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 1998**

'Fate has a funny way of making fools of us all', Ivan thought to himself as he stared up into the canopy above him.

The September air was slightly crisp, signaling the change of summer to fall. While the leaves had not yet started their descent to the ground, there was an aura of the impending seasonal change all around.

The sun struggled to creep through the thick foliage as Ivan continued to stare up at into the tress above him while positioned on the wooden bench below.

He wondered how the leaves must feel knowing their time was almost at an end. If they could feel themselves slowly dying and simply chose to let go, or did they hang on with every remaining ounce of strength until that very last telling moment before their withered, weak bodies fell gracefully to the earth.

Ivan sighed in commiseration for the poor leaves. He himself had felt like he had been dying for some months now. If he had his choice, he would have simply slipped away until no one noticed he existed anymore. And in many ways he felt that this was what he was doing now.

But his grandfather… his poor lonely grandfather, who had suffered so much for so long, had made him promise to try when he brought him here. He had made him promise to see if this new life in Canada could be worth sticking around for.

So far, Ivan was not convinced it was.

Grudgingly Ivan stretched out his long muscular legs and slowly began to stand up. He felt as if he should be somewhere, or off doing something but truthfully did not know what that could be. His college classes were over for the day, and it was only 1pm in the afternoon.

He could go home, but the house his grandfather had so painstakingly provided for him was filled to the brim with memories from home… from his Russia… from his family.

It would only make him feel worse.

But as his grandfather would say, "Just carry on… one step in front of the other."

So Ivan continued on down the path of the beautifully landscaped private college, He kept thinking that he should be admiring the lovely tree layout as well as the nicely manicured ponds.

But the truth was he would have traded it all in for the rundown ex-government owned college he'd be going to back home. It may not have been rich in money, but the people had been kind, and the scenery comfortable and familiar.

Then again… it wouldn't be the same now anyways.

While Ivan slowly meandered along the path, a young couple walked by hand-in-hand, obviously lost in the emotions of their new love. Ivan would have preferred to ignore them or to simply look away. But as usual his impressive stature and long overcoat made him stand out easily in the crowd.

The young couple stared up at him with concern, while the girlfriend actually moved to stand behind her man.

The act made Ivan scowl and the feelings of resentment towards his new "home" began to fester once more. Weren't Canadians supposed to be kind and polite and everything wonderful? He had yet to see any indications of that.

No one approached him by their own choice. People talked about him, stared at him, pointed at him. Their looks were filled with pity, and caution, and fear.

He hated them, almost as much as he hated himself right now.

For the most part the Canadians were still stuck in that cold war mentality, fearful of the foreigner who could barely speak their language. But Ivan didn't particularly feel like going out of his way to change their mind anyways.

Ivan didn't particularly feel like doing much these days. Or maybe it was the opposite and he simply felt too much, either way it left him feeling numb.

But for his grandfather's sake he would continue to attend school, for his grandfather's sake he would wake up in the mornings, for his grandfather's sake he would continue to eat his meals and for his grandfather he would carry on…

… one foot in front of the other.

Despite the feelings to the contrary, it had only been a couple of weeks since Ivan had began attending St-Michael's College.

St-Michael's was a Private upper class college whose sole purpose was to cater to the most talented of young Canadians, no matter the subject, as long as their parents could pay of course.

Back in Russia, Ivan had been a gifted student, with supposedly above average intelligence. His grades and accomplishments in the area of history and military tactical strategies alone had landed him a spot in the school.

His grandfather had wondered if maybe he would have preferred to look at a career in the Royal Military College of Canada instead, but Ivan had adamantly refused. Despite his love of history, his ability to name dates of complete insignificance to the average person, or the way his mind could truly comprehend complicated military strategies, the life of the military was just too close to what he'd left behind. Too close to what he was trying so hard to run away from.

So instead his grandfather had worked hard to get him into St-Michael's College instead. A few calls to some old USSR government friends who had long ago defected to Canada, and who now worked for the embassy had been enough to raise the funds needed to provide for the tuition. The Russian embassy was more than happy to help back the funds needed to help along a gifted student, a gifted RUSSIAN student that was.

Of course there was still the language barrier. Ivan had lived deep in Russia all his life and had not spoken a word of English before moving here two months ago. His intelligence had made the process quicker that it might have been for someone else, but he still lacked many conversational skills, and thus, social skills. By now he could comprehend most common phrases on paper, but still had trouble understanding most accents, and wasn't as confident when he spoke out loud.

For the moment, the school was willing to overlook this small problem in light of Ivan's gifts, but he would have to work quickly in remedying the problem lest the school lose their patience. Ivan was no good to them if he could not be paraded about like a toy soldier.

And it was with these thoughts in his mind Ivan currently stood trying to decipher a sign that showed directions around the campus. A single word had caught his eye, and he was trying to read the English letters and pronounce them in his heavy accent.

"Ice Rink".

Ivan repeated the words a few more times as if trying to decide if he should be curious or indifferent. A cool breeze drifted by, ruffling wisps of his silver hair; bringing back memories that he really didn't want to think about right now. But as much as they hurt, they also called to him in a way that made his heart clench and ache.

In the end the curiosity won him over and Ivan spun on his left heel and swung his right leg around so that he was now facing the direction of the rink.

Maybe just a peek couldn't hurt, he thought to himself. What harm could smelling the ice in the air, or watching as rich, spoiled children, who'd never known hunger or pain, flail about on the ice.

Almost without knowing that he was doing it, Ivan's steps sped up; his head no longer looked forlornly on the ground as he kept an eye out for what he assumed would be a very familiar building. And as he turned the corner, the unmistakable shape of an indoor Ice Rink appeared before his eyes. It was grander than anything he'd ever stepped in before, but in the end it would hold the same flat, cold slippery surface needed in any rink.

As Ivan walked through the double doors used to maintain the proper temperature in the rink, he noticed a schedule on the wall. The majority of the time slots were used up in the mornings and late afternoons. This made sense, as it was meant to work around the student's schedule. He couldn't make out all of the words, but knew enough that there was Figure Skating, Free skating, something called Broom Ball, and of course… Hockey.

For the first time in a long time, a small smile threatened to inch its way up the corner of Ivan's mouth. It was minute, almost unnoticeable, but he felt it all the same.

Ivan moved into the main portion of the rink and took note that almost all the lights were turned off save a few near the other end. He could hear the carving sounds of blades as they sliced through the ice, and heard the oh-so familiar sound of a slap as a puck was catapulted towards the net.

Once he was able to look around the rink boards, Ivan was surprised to see only one hockey player on the rink. With all the noise and sounds of action, it had sounded like a few players were going at it.

Instead he was greeted with the sight of a young man on the rink dressed in the traditional black hockey skates, a pair of jeans that seemed an ill choice to work out in, and a red jersey proudly displaying a white Canadian Maple leaf on the front, and the words '**A.F. Jones'** on the back. His hockey helmet hid most of his features from view, as did the quick pace he now used to speed around the ring.

To say Ivan was surprised was an understatement. This young man didn't just skate… he flew across the ice. Pucks were being simultaneously shot at the boards as well as at the net, then the player would quickly race to intercept his own goals. Not only that, but Ivan's tactician mind noticed that this was no ordinary messing around, the hockey player seemed to have an action plan, a well orchestrated drill that was above the average hockey player's grasp.

Simply put, this kid could play hockey.

Ivan was so lost in his calculations of the young man's moves that it took him nearly by surprise when the hockey player spun on his blade, raised his stick high and hit the puck directly at Ivan.

Despite the fact that the puck had not been hit at full force, it was in all likelihood only meant to scare him and whiz by the right side of his head, years of honed instincts forced Ivan to lift his unprotected hand and catch the wayward puck.

And with that action, silence filled the air.

If the Canadian had seemed surprised, it was nothing to how Ivan felt, well … surprise and pain. The human hand wasn't meant to catch a puck without a glove to soften the blow. Ivan's hand screamed in agony, as his eyes widened fractionally. His pride not allowing him to show how much the instinctual action had hurt him.

A.F. Jones looked as if he'd been ready to yell out a snappy insult, something along the lines of "Go Away" or "Mind your own business", but his eyes couldn't stop looking at the puck that Ivan now held in his upraised hand.

Slowly Ivan lifted his left hand in salutation, and forced a fake smile onto his face.

" Mister A.F. Jones… this… yours?" His heavy accent instantly revealing that he was not from around here.

The young man in question looked temporarily confused, and annoyed, before a light seem to go off in his head and he glanced back over his shoulder at the letters on his back.

"Alfred" corrected the quietly annoyed voice "… and yes". The young man then took off his helmet to reveal his sweat-soaked wavy blond hair.

Ivan couldn't help but notice how the soft hair framed the pale face and exercise induced red cheeks to perfection. He cursed himself for even making such a stupid observation, the same type of observation that had partially led to the horrible events that brought him here in the first place.

The young man's blue, no… almost violet eyes, narrowed in distrust as he looked back and forth between Ivan and the puck. Neither man seemed keen to speak, but none more so than the hockey player.

"Vell, _Alfred_… play?" Ivan asked holding up the puck still being clutched in his bruised hand.

Ivan had not entered the rink with the intention of playing, but how could he resist after witnessing that display, and the annoyance he felt from the other man did nothing but spur that old competitive feelings deep within his chest.

Alfred's pale lips turned into a set frown as he jammed his helmet back on and began to skate away.

Without thinking about it Ivan pitched the puck into the young man's back, causing him to stumble a few steps. Alfred turned to look back over his shoulder and a softly muttered, "You've got to be kidding me", could be heard.

"Play?" Ivan asked again, this time with an upraised brow and larger grin than before.

"Or… scared of Russian Hockey?" he asked in his broken English.

The Canadian's eyes opened wide in answer to this statement, and quicker than Ivan could follow, he was off and flying towards the door. Ivan almost thought he was going to lunge at him before he saw the young man jump onto the padded floor and reach into his bag near the rink door, throwing him a pair of skates that had been inside.

He then jumped back onto the ice and began to hit the pucks as hard as he could against the walls, a direct challenge to Ivan.

Ivan's grin soon grew into a full out smile as he began to unlace his shoes and replace them with the tight fitting skates. They weren't quite his size, but if he left them loose enough they should be ok for now.

He soon found a stick nearby and joined the smaller player on the ice. Ivan was rusty, he'd not played in some time, in fact he'd not done much in some time. But no one could ever forget the feel of the ice as you carved your blades into the surface. Only on skates could Ivan ever truly feel "light on his feet" with his size and stature. When he was on the ice, he too felt like he could "fly", fly like the Canadian he'd just watched play not moments before.

The one-on-one competition lasted who knows how long. But it was the figure skaters getting ready for their time on the rink that forced the two off the ice, neither man willing to admit defeat to the other.

Ivan thought he'd played well considering he had a very sore right hand, and had not played in so long. But as the Canadian had been well into his practice by the time Ivan had shown up, maybe the odds had evened out. Either way whatever friendly camaraderie he'd been expecting to experience once they got off the ice was soon proven to be a false hope.

Upon seeing the young girls, the Canadian seemed to realize the time and hurried to change into his normal shoes. He was in such a rush he nearly tripped over his own feet on his way out of the rink.

Surprised at the frantic actions of his competitor, Ivan called out to him while still wearing the borrowed skates.

"_ALFRED! _Yours?" he yelled loudly while pointing to the skates.

The Canadian stopped dead in his tracks, and raced back to where the Russian was now unlacing the skates.

While Alfred was by no means a small man, he couldn't help but look that way next to the good sized Russian. But despite this, there was no look of being intimidated from the smaller man, only one of annoyance at Ivan's pace.

As soon as the skates were placed in Alfred's hands, the Canadian mumbled a half hearted "Good Game" and turned to run off again, but Ivan held fast onto the blades, causing him to stumble backwards toward the bigger man.

"Ivan" he calmly pronounced for the Canadian's sake.

"What?" came the confused reply in the same soft spoken but annoyed voice.

Ivan smiled down at the other man in what he hoped looked sincere, and pointed to himself with his free hand.

"Ivan" he said again.

Alfred's soft blue and violet eyes looked temporarily guilty for not having asked in the first place, before the more familiar look of mistrust and uneasiness replaced it.

"Good game… Ivan" he nearly whispered, but with more sincerity than before. And this time he yanked the skates away for good measure and ran off to wherever it was he needed to be.

….

Author's notes:

Those weren't Matthew's skates lest anyone wonder how Ivan could be sharing the same foot size.

LOOSELY, and I do mean loosely based off of St-Michaels College in Toronto. Only thing they share is location and a great hockey team. I'm kinda thinking this is a mix of St-Michaels and Upper Canada College.

I apologize to anyone who is Russian, who has lived in Russia, or who speaks Russian. I can only go off of my time living in East Germany, and my few Russian Friends I met there. I'm going to try and not make up anything that is far fetched and hopefully the story will cover for the few inaccuracies.

Wish I cold speak Russian… would make some upcoming scenes easier to write….

I should do a story with Germany….

I apologize to Canadians, most of the resentment is in Ivan's head, and they are not actually that bad in this story, plus considering the aura he's giving off… I'd be backing away too.

Broom ball is a popular University/College sport in Canada. It consists of fake broom like sticks, a big ball (kinda like Dodge ball) and NO skates, you wear normal shoes. It's a lot of fun.

Please forgive spelling and grammar errors, I'm not a pro writer, nor do I really intend to be. This is just for fun.

Enjoy


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_Papa, papa watch this! Watch over here!" The little boy wobbled bravely on the small frozen pond before bringing his stick up high into air and swinging down to hit the puck into the homemade "net". The force of the action through him off balance and the little boy fell ungracefully onto the ice, his stick skidding away and following the path the puck had just taken. _

_Seconds passed before a strong pair of arms swooped by and hoisted the fallen boy high into the air, throwing and catching him with a single twist of his arms as he skated around the rink in large loops and whirls. _

"_Oh Ivan, you have such talent". His father affectionately teased. "Maybe you will play for the Olympics next year, they will beg me to let you play." The large men tickled the boy until he was withering down onto the ice. _

"_Oh Papa", the boy giggled, "I don't want to play for the Olympics, I just want to play with you."_

A brief glance at his clunky cell phone told Ivan that the battery had long since run dry. His grandfather had bought him the phone as another way to always confirm Ivan would be able to contact him if he was needed. But it was used infrequently since Ivan had no friends, rarely left the house, and generally wasn't up for any sort of conversation.

Ivan's brows creased in concern as he realized that the sun was going down and he was just now making his way home.

After the hockey game with Alfred, Ivan's appetite had been worked up. He'd not eaten lunch, and barely touched breakfast. But his workout, and something else, convinced him a meal would be a good idea after all, and maybe a good-sized meal at that.

He popped into a local college diner and ordered a large greasy meal courtesy of the money his grandfather gave him on a weekly basis. Ivan never used the money, but didn't have the heart to tell his grandfather that the money was just being wasted on him, so he would normally just put it in a tin in his bedroom at the end of the day.

Once the meal was completed, Ivan felt like going for a walk along the trees again, this time instead of the dark thoughts that had occupied his mind earlier, the hockey game with Alfred played and replayed itself in his mind. He enjoyed thinking about the small victories over the Canadian, as well any hits he'd managed to squeak in. Both boys had skill, but while Ivan had his size to use to his advantage, Alfred was quick footed and sneaky, and he gave as good as he got. Ivan rubbed his sore rib cage just thinking about some of Alfred's hits with a wry smile.

Playing hockey without padding was never a great idea.

Ivan slowed as he arrived at his Grandfather's house, reaching into his pockets to retrieve the keys. His hand stilled and his heart clenched in worry when he heard angry yelling coming from inside.

It was unmistakably his grandfather's voice, but his grandfather never yelled, he'd always been soft spoken and kind to a fault. Ivan slowly crept into the front foyer and tried to get closer while being unheard. This was because he wanted to hear what was being said, but also in case his grandfather was in trouble of some sort.

'_Not again_' his mind whispered in dread.

But as he got closer it was obvious that his grandfather was yelling into a phone. Ivan tried his best to make out the angry words, but they were being spoken in his grandfather's slightly accented English and were being relayed much too fast and with such a ferocity that it was hard to make out even the words he knew.

That said, there was one thing Ivan was certain of; the conversation was about him.

"Listen officer, I appreciate that you have a system for these types of situations, but you do not realize who you're talking to here. I work for the Russian Consulate, and I'm a personal friend of the Ambassador from Russia. When I SAY I have a missing person to report, I'm not kidding around or making some kind of light hearted prank call".

Ivan jolted back as he heard something being slammed hard onto the coffee table.

"NO! No, I will NOT wait another 20 hours. He could be dead already. He suffers from an _extreme_ case of depression, his whole family is dead, and I will NOT add him to that list."

Whatever was being said on the other end was almost as much of a mystery to Ivan as what was being said on this end. But whatever it was, it was enough to make his grandfather slam the phone onto the receiver and angrily swipe the table of all its contents, including the phone.

His grandfather then reached over to one of the lamp stands and grabbed his keys, all the while muttering some much more familiar Russian swear words.

It was obvious that his grandfather was about to grab his car and go for a drive, and Ivan had an ever-increasing sinking feeling that it was to go in search of him.

Then as his grandfather rounded the corner, he very nearly ran straight into the unmoving form of his missing grandson.

His eyes went wide, and the keys were dropped to the ground without another thought.

"I-ivan… " his grandfather's voice trembled before he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the large form of his grandson. "My little Ivan… you're …. You're ok.".

"Yes", Ivan whispered back, now feeling no more than 2 feet tall. "I'm here grandfather."

His grandfather pulled back and the look of hurt and worry was evident on his features. "Why didn't you call? Where have you been? Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm sorry grandfather, I stayed late to play a game of hockey. My phone was dead, and I didn't think…" the words suddenly felt like sandpaper as he forced them out. "I didn't you'd care if I came home late." With that Ivan managed to hang his head even lower in shame if at all possible.

Their relationship was strained at best, what with Ivan working through his own demons and avoiding coming to grips with his new home, and his grandfather doing everything in his power to make Ivan forget about, well everything. On top of that, they barely knew each other. They hadn't seen each other in years, not since Ivan was a little boy. And this was hardly the ideal circumstance to catch up on things.

Ivan watched as his grandfather's pale eyes scrunched together in pain, and he worked his mouth as if to say something, but didn't know what words to form.

All too quickly it became too much for Ivan and he began to walk around his grandfather on his way up to his room. He couldn't deal with this right now, the last thing he needed was more guilt.

"I'll be in my room, I already ate dinner" Ivan said to his grandfather in a shallow voice, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

His grandfather didn't try to follow him, and once he was in his room Ivan had meant to sit on his bed, but missed and fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Everything was numb, everything hurt. His grandfather didn't need this; he deserved to be happy after everything that had happened. But Ivan also knew that his grandfather needed him too.

Ivan brought his sore right hand and laid it upon his breast where his heart should be and dug his fingers into the flesh as if to grasp the aching muscle.

Breath, Ivan thought to himself, just breath.

Ivan wasn't sure how long he'd be home, but eventually a string of light crept into the dark room as his grandfather slipped in through the creaking door.

His grandfather slowly walked around Ivan and leaned over to turn the lamp light on before sitting himself down beside Ivan on the floor.

He sat there for a while watching him, while Ivan continued to avoid his look and to stare sadly at the hardwood boards.

Ivan flinched slightly as he felt his grandfather's strong hand begin to softly stroke his silvery hair. He didn't know what his grandfather hoped to say, but he begged silently that it wasn't an apology; he couldn't deal with the shame if his grandfather apologized for having been worried about him.

Instead of words, Ivan was startled to feel the weight of a small box being placed on to his lap. He then felt his grandfather's soothing hands move from his hair to gently lift his chin.

"Ah my little Ivan, do not look so glum. No one is mad, no one is hurt and I am happy that you are here. Every day I am happy you are here."

Ivan couldn't help but be note at how his grandfather always insisted on calling him "little Ivan" now that he was full grown, but had always called him "Big Ivan, Strong Ivan, Brave Ivan when he'd been so little. Maybe it was fitting, but he doubted his grandfather meant it that way.

"Here", his grandfather motioned to the box. "I imagine it was hard to play hockey without any skates. Maybe these will fit." And with that his grandfather helped to open the top of the box.

Inside was a pair of very old looking hockey skates, easily from the 60's or 70's. But they were extremely well maintained, and their handmade leather outer shined with the appearance of a recent cleaning.

"Now, they are old, but they are made of a good Russian quality. We will need to get the blades tightened and sharpened, and maybe some new laces, but they will be better than any new pair you could buy today." His grandfather's voice shined with the pride he felt for these skates, but then his voice dropped as if he was hesitant to relay the next piece of information. "They were your fathers, you know how much he loved the game. I saw them when I came to pick you up… it would be a shame for them to never feel the ice beneath their blades again, it would be a shame for you too, I think."

Ivan tentatively reached down to pick up the blades, and stroked them reverently as if touching them could bring back the feeling of his father. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, and in a strange way lifted a bit of the ache in his chest. Like his grandfather had somehow managed to bring back a piece of the father he missed so much.

Clutching the blades tighter to his chest, Ivan finally looked up at his grandfather with remorse in his eyes. "I'm sorry I make you worry. I'm… I'm sorry that you have to take care of me so much, but I am trying Grandfather, I swear I'm trying.".

A tear slipped out of his grandfather's eye as he stroked his grandson's check. "Shhh Ivan, I know you're trying. I know it hurts, I feel it too. But we have each other, and it makes the hurt disappear when I think about how I have you with me now. Forget about the pain tonight and get some sleep, ok? Tomorrow we'll go shopping for some gear to go with your new skates." He then patted Ivan's shoulder affectionately and stood up to walk away.

Ivan stood up too, letting the box fall to the ground while he held fast to his father's skates. "Good night grandfather," Ivan looked down at the skates, but his voice was still directed at the man leaving the room. "Thank you, for everything."

The next day Ivan was feeling fairly refreshed all things considered and was surprisingly eager to get the day started. For the first time in a long time he was thinking of what he'd like to get done that day.

He quickly wolfed down his breakfast, eating far more then he felt like eating as a small sign to his Grandfather that he was feeling somewhat better.

Since it wasn't really that chilly today, Ivan opted to leave his overcoat behind and just wear his scarf. His hands hesitated over the soft fabric before biting down on the memories it brought up and flinging it around his neck.

He waved goodbye to his grandfather before setting off on his way to school.

He didn't have any classes until after lunch, but he was keen to find Alfred and find out what he could about the school's Hockey team. He was sure he'd seen signs advertising tryouts, but maybe the other hockey player had some suggestions about what the Coach was looking for.

As he made his way onto the extensive campus, Ivan veered off into the main building, tracking down the huge billboard that would have the signup sheets. In what seemed like a stroke of luck, he spied Alfred casually filling out his name on a sheet pinned to the billboard, while simultaneously banging on a door next to it.

"Hurry up Mattie, we're going to be late for English class." The annoyance in his voice could be clearly heard, although Ivan noted that it was strangely different than the tone used yesterday.

Today the jeans had been swapped out for a comfortable looking pair of dress slacks, and a complimentary blue dress shirt. He was also sporting a pair of glasses that Ivan didn't remember from yesterday. But most people chose to wear contacts when there was a possibility of a puck to the face. He seemed to be in a good mood today, although impatient with whomever it was he was waiting for.

As Ivan got closer, a smirk grew as he thought about how much he was going to enjoy crushing this other young man in another game of one on one.

Alfred was leaning against the wall by the time Ivan approached and began to playfully goad him on.

"Alfred," Ivan called out to get the other man's attention, "I hope body is not broken, only spirit." The Russian teased as he picked up the pen to write his own name on the sheet.

Alfred turned to regard the larger student with a look of curiosity and honest confusion. "I'm sorry, what did you break?"

Ivan paused, and considered the other's tone. Something wasn't right here. Alfred was polite, and honest in his question, but his voice was devoid of the competitiveness and annoyance he'd heard from yesterday. It was almost as if he didn't recognize him.

"Maybe Puck hit too hard," Ivan drawled with a smirk. "you forget losing hockey yesterday?"

Alfred's eyes widened fractionally, and it seemed like a light bulb went off in his head. Whatever friendly politeness had been there before quickly drained from his face, and hard unhappy line appeared.

"Listen Comrade, first off I don't lose at hockey, and second if you hit me I'll hit you back." Alfred pushed off the wall and advanced on the Russian in a way that in no way reminded Ivan of yesterday's encounter.

"Vat? I tink you… confused?" Ivan tried to form more coherent sentence structures, but his mind was frantically trying to grasp what was going on.

"No, _Comrade_, it's you who's confused. Whatever pity game I had with you yesterday is over. I don't want you or your soviet ideas anywhere near me again," Alfred then turned to the hockey sign up sheet and started frantically scratching two names off of the list while managing to snarl. "and stay the _hell_ away from Matthew too".

Just like with his grandfather last night, the words were coming too fast and angry to be fully understood. He knew Alfred was mad at him, this time for real, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he'd done wrong in such a short period of time. Maybe he really had hurt the smaller Canadian, although it hadn't seemed that way at the time.

Just as Alfred was scratching out the last name on the list, the door next to him flung open and a peeved looking doppelganger appeared before Ivan's eyes. He was dressed in an identical looking outfit and was repositioning his glasses on the tip of his nose.

"Alfred don't bang on the door when I'm in the washroom, it's not going to make me move any faster, and just what… " His voice trailed off as he saw Alfred scratching out his name on the signup sheet. "Alfred what the hell are you doing, I said sign our names up, not take them off."

"Alfred?" Another voice called from the sidelines. The baffled sounding accent was enough to make the double turn away from his twin and stare up at Ivan with instant realization.

He immediately turned his gaze back to the angry man who was practically stabbing the paper in an effort to show his anger.

"I can explain…" came the frantic voice as the double tried to stop the first Alfred from scratching out the names anymore. But his twin angrily shrugged him off before grabbing the flailing arm and pulling him away.

"We're late, let's go!" The first Alfred proclaimed as he dragged his indignant twin down the hall. When the double resisted so that he could try and get back to the Hockey sheet, Alfred yanked on his arm harder. "NOW!"

Ivan was left standing by the board stunned. He could only watch as the two identical young men made their way further into the building.

But right before turning the corner, the young man being dragged away managed to glance back one last time at Ivan and direct a look of pure angry betrayal.

TBC

Author's Note:

I've been writing Gundam Wing Fanfiction for almost 10 years and was amused to see my highest hit count this past weekend with this fanfic, however it also had my lowest number of reviews My ego may have taken a hit, but no worries; I'm enjoying this story none the less

I also lowered the rating; I realized I had it set so high that you couldn't actually see the story in the Hetalia Section… oops.

I was listening to the Musical "Chess" all last night and thinking, wish someone would do a story with that.

The oh so original characterizations could be:

Ivan as "The Russian"

Alfred as "The American"

And umm.. Matthew as Florence ;)

Either way I much imagine the Grandfather is like "The Russian" in the musical Chess, politics forced him out of Russia, but he still loves his homeland.

**Canadian to American translation:**

Washroom = Restroom/Toilet

Sony


	3. Chapter 3

"_Matthew… Mattheeeeew… please come out… I promise he's gone now." A young blond boy called out to the dark bedroom as he frantically searched for his missing brother. He knew he must still be in the room, but couldn't find him anywhere._

_Alfred was about to turn around and search another room when he heard a small noise coming from under their shared bed, it was unmistakably the sound of someone trying to stifle his crying._

_Alfred kneeled down and crawled under the bed where he knew his brother would be hiding. And there he found him huddled in the far corner, looking for all the world to be much smaller than he really was._

_Alfred tried his best to coax him out, while being careful not to touch him in anyway, lest he aggravate a wound he couldn't see. "Matthew, please come out, I brought the first aid kit, I need to see where you're hurt."_

_The only movement Matthew made was to clutch his knees tighter to his chest. His breathing sounded ragged as he sniffled out some more tears and Alfred wondered if maybe his ribs had punctured something more serious._

"_Please Matthew; I don't have much time before Momma notices that I'm not fixing her dinner." This time Alfred did reach out and risked gently pulling his twin away from his hiding place._

_In the darkly lit room, a small nod could be seen, and Matthew let himself be led out from under the bed. His movements were stilted as he was obviously still in pain. Alfred stayed close so as to help if it was needed. He then helped him up so that he was now sitting on the bed._

_Matthew looked far too pale, even considering everything that had just happened. Alfred briefly wondered if there had been too much blood loss, but a quick once over revealed that the bleeding had long since stopped. The worst of injuries this time were on Matthew's chest and his left arm; the bruises on his neck were only superficial. Alfred thought that the arm might be broken._

"_Al…" A quiet voice softly pierced through the darkness._

"_Yeah Mattie." Alfred replied gently as he continued to dress the wounds using only the eerie glow of the moon. Alfred was scared that if turned on the lights, HE might come back before he was done fixing his brother up._

"_I don't think I can take much more of this… I'm so tired… and I'm scared Al, I'm really, really scared." Alfred stopped dressing the wounds as fear ripped through his body. He angrily crushed the gauze in his hands as tears slipped down his cheeks. A silent mantra repeating itself in his head as he thought of the person responsible for his brother's pain, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. But all he said was, "I'm scared too Mattie…"_

Matthew William Jones tried his best to pay attention to the professor during the English lecture, but his efforts were as good as futile as he kept glancing back over to his still fuming brother beside him. To say Alfred was angry with him would be a gross under exaggeration.

Not that Matthew could blame him; he had after all lied to him. But it wasn't as if he'd meant to deceive Alfred, it's just that he had really wanted to get some practice in before the tryouts. Alfred was always so unmotivated when it came to Hockey, and since Al had to get that cavity removed at the Dentist's office, it just seemed like the perfect time to work on some drills.

He hadn't meant to talk with anyone, and he certainly hadn't meant to start playing with a complete stranger, something that went so against Matthew's personality that even he himself was surprised. But something about the Russian student had managed to sneak past his barriers and get a rise out of him. And when they'd started playing, Matthew was lost in the challenge of the game. It had been so long since anyone had managed to keep up with him… most unfortunately not even Alfred could, not that he'd ever let him know that.

"Jones!" The professor suddenly snapped out loud, grabbing the attention of both boys.

"Yes" they answered in unison.

The professor grimaced in irritation before clarifying "_Alfred_ Jones, pay attention. You're parents aren't paying a tuition for you to daydream in class". The words were technically directed at his brother Alfred, but the professor was clearing addressing Matthew.

'My parents aren't paying my tuition at all'. Matthew thought morbidly to himself.

"Yes Ma'am, I'll pay attention". He obediently replied instead, completely ignoring the mix-up in names. He was after all, long used to being confused with his twin. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alfred smirk over his brother's reprimand.

'Laugh it up', Matthew thought to himself and he glanced smugly back at Alfred, 'It's you she thinks is in trouble.'

Alfred seemed to realize this too. He scowled and began ripping off some pieces of paper before scrunching them up and starting to chuck them over at Matthew.

The sharp eyed professor caught this too and immediately sprung into action. "Matthew Jones, stop that at once or you'll be spending this afternoon in detention."

"Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am." Alfred answered as he sat back into his chair, although Matthew knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Several of the girls in the class giggled and waved shyly at both boys, and it didn't matter to them which one of them noticed. They were after all, interchangeable. Alfred winked back at a few of them while Matthew pretended he hadn't noticed. He didn't particularly feel like playing this 'game' right now.

It wasn't long before class was over and both boys stood up, and with the ease of much practice, started walking in step on their way out to the cafeteria for lunch. Not a word was spoken as they walked down the hall, or while they were in line for their food. Matthew worried it would continue this way if he didn't say something soon, so he finally spoke up as they sat down at their table.

"Al…" Matthew attempted to say in what he hoped was a placating voice. "We really need to sign up for the tryouts before…" But he was soon interrupted as Alfred's angry glare shot up and directed itself at him.

"Don't Mattie. Don't you dare start with me right now!" Alfred then began to shovel some Shepherd's Pie into his mouth, actively trying to end the conversation.

Matthew wasn't about to give up this easily.

"I said I'm sorry Al, you know I've been asking to get some practice in all week. You shouldn't be surprised that I…" again he was interrupted by his ill humoured sibling.

"The only thing I'm surprised about is how you could be so stupid." The words were spoken with such quiet malice so as to not disturb the other students around them, but as he continued Alfred looked down at his food and clenched his fists in agitation. "You told me you were going home. You were all alone in that rink, anyone could of showed up, anything could have happened… I wasn't there… what if…" Alfred's voice trailed off as all the thoughts of 'what If's' began to play in his mind.

Matthew gently put down his own fork and slowly leaned across the table to cover his brother's clenching fist with his own warm hand.

"Alfred," he started calmly "I'm not a little boy anymore; nothing's going to happen to me on campus just because you're not around."

"But what if it did?" The fear and worry could clearly be heard in Alfred's voice, the anger long since spent. "I can't go through that again; I can't ever see you hurt like that again."

Matthew continued to stroke the back of his brother's hand reassuringly. "Nothing's ever going to happen like that again, and I know you'll always be there for me Al. One little hockey game with some guy isn't going change anything. It was just a game."

At his brother's words, Alfred immaturely shrugged his hand out of his brother's grasp and began to eat again.

"I don't like the look of that guy Mattie; he was far too familiar with you, with me too. Who knows what he wants. He's big too, you say you can watch yourself, but he could have easily overpowered you. If he's going to be on the team this year, I don't think we should play Hockey either; we should just stick with the baseball team."

With those words, a flash of fresh panic flashed across Matthew's eyes. "Please Al; you know how much I love Hockey. I've never asked anything of you before, please don't do this."

Alfred's hand stilled as he looked up to finally regard his twin. "Never asked me for anything? You once asked the biggest thing in the world from me Mattie." Alfred cruelly spat out, but he immediately regretted the words as he saw his brother's eyes go wide then close in defeat. For a moment he thought Matthew would get up and leave, but instead his twin lowered his head and didn't utter a word in retaliation.

Alfred quickly lunged across the table to pick up his brother's slack hand and clasp it in his own, frantically trying to undo the pain he'd just caused. "I'm sorry Mattie, I didn't mean that. I'd do anything for you, and you know that. Of course we'll try out for the team. It just kills me when I think that you're somewhere where I can't be there to protect you. Just… just please don't do that again."

Matthew cautiously glanced back up at his brother with a shy smile of gratitude. "Thanks Al, I mean that. And I do know you mean well." Matthew smirked as his voice took on a more playful tone. "I promise I won't wonder off to play hockey with any strange foreign men again. Although you should know I crushed him in our game of one on one. I even hit him with a puck when he wasn't wearing any padding."

Alfred let out a bark of laughter, clearly liking the image of his brother destroying the Russian at Hockey.

"Don't worry Al." Matthew repeated reassuringly. "It's just you and me; we're in this together, always."

Alfred squeezed his brother's hand and patted his shoulder with a broad grin and he stood up as he started to speak excitedly. "I feel better already. I hate it when we're not talking. Stay right here, I'll go get us some desert, my treat. How's some pie sound?"

Matthew couldn't help but smile back at his charming brother. "Sounds great Al, pecan if they have it."

Alfred gave him a mock salute before walking off back to the long line for food. There was a pronounced skip in his step, and he looked back several times to smile at his brother.

For his part, Matthew let out a loud sigh of relief. That could have gone a lot worse. But just like Al, he hated it when they fought. The two of them had always been together, and no matter how many "friends" they had, it was always really just been them.

In the end they could only ever really trust each other.

It wasn't long though until Matthew sensed a foreboding presence behind him. He quickly swiveled around on the bench to come face to… stomach with a familiar large Russian who had a mocking scowl plastered on his face.

"Vell I must tink _hard_ all night. Canadian so bad at hockey, he need be two times as good to beat Russian. And 'POOF', like magic. Two Alfreds!" Ivan's hands dramatically demonstrated the verbal "poof" as he peered down at the smaller Canadian with an almost maniacal look of mirth.

Matthew's brow set itself into a familiar look of annoyance before turning back around to brush off the Russian.

"I thought I told you to stay away from me and my brother." Matthew spat out while shoveling his own food into his mouth just like Alfred had done earlier.

The words didn't have the desired effect as Matthew felt the bench next to him dip down with the weight of the other man. He glanced over as the larger man turned his head so that he was looking directly into Matthew's own eyes.

"No, bro'der tell me this. You tell only lies."

Matthew instantly prickled with indignation. "And just what makes you so sure I'm not him." He asked in an equally unfriendly voice.

The Russian looked confused by this comment but carried on anyways. "I play hockey with _you_, not bro'der."

It was Matthew's turn to look confused, and he pushed up his glasses for good measure before replying. "You can't honestly say you can tell us apart. Our own uncle has problems telling us apart."

Ivan leaned back as if to consider the statement and mull the English words over in his mind. He liked talking to this Canadian because of the way he spoke. It was softer and his words were pronounced much clearer than most of the other people who lived here. Ivan was able to catch even more words than usual.

"Two Alfreds not hard to tell apart. But which is Alfred, and which is Mad'dew?"

Without skipping a beat Matthew looked back at his food and proclaimed in a confident tone. "I'm Alfred; he's _MATTHEW_."

Ivan smirked at this and nonchalantly began to wipe at the table top before responding. "Ok , understand now. He Alfred and you Mad'dew."

"What? No!" Matthew sputtered. "I just said I'm Alfred."

Ivan's smile dropped away and he once again graced Mathew with that oh so intimidating stare. "Yes, and Matvey lies. Also, you do not look like a Alfred."

"Oh I lie, do I?" Matthew responded all flustered as he tried to cover his frustration at being called out. "You don't really know do you? You're just guessing! And just what the heck dose an 'Alfred' look like compared to a Matthew?"

Leaning forward, Ivan lowered his voice as if to pass on a great secret. Matthew knew his instincts should be telling him to 'back off', 'run away', 'get Alfred'. But something about Ivan almost seem to make him want to stand his ground and dare him with his eyes to prove him wrong in any way. The way Ivan now looked at him as he whispered his answer made Matthew's stomach do a little flip of anticipation, a very unfamiliar response.

"Matvey have eyes of Hockey player, ready for fight, and Alfred look like… jerk."

At this comment, Matthew's 'Hockey player' eyes squinted with distrust as he considered whether or not the Russian was lying. Could he really tell them apart?

His thoughts, however, were quickly interrupted as two plates were unceremoniously slammed down onto the surface of the table, immediately forcing the two young men to break apart and look up at the newcomer.

Matthew was pretty sure Alfred's eyes looked just as ready for a fight, like 'his' supposedly did. For at the moment Alfred was glaring daggers at the Russian sitting just a little too close next to him.

Before anything else could be said to make matters worse, Matthew jumped in to end this once and for all.

"Whether or not it was my brother who said it, or me, we both meant it. Leave us alone, and don't bother us again. We don't need, or _want_ you around either of us." Matthew ignored whatever reaction was created from those words so as to glance reassuringly up at his brother. He really wanted Alfred to know that he hadn't been trying anything behind his back.

Alfred titled his head in triumph as he moved to stand next to his twin brother, making sure to put himself between Matthew and the unwanted guest. "Come on Mattie, I've lost me appetite, let's get out of here."

Matthew didn't hesitate for a second to follow his brother's directions and got up, leaving the uneaten food on the table. He also didn't dare glance back at the quiet young man who was still seated at the lunchroom table; he didn't want to risk seeing anything that might make him regret his words.

TBC…

Author's Notes: Phew another chapter done and done.

I received a heartwarming review last night, but sadly it was anonymous (Holy Moly). It made me feel all fuzzy inside and whoever you are, just wanted to thank you for the kind words J

Had several comments from some surprised Canadians saying "Washroom isn't a word in the US?"

Correction, it IS a word; it just means 'Laundry Room' instead of how Canadians use it.

FYI Keener isn't a word down here in the US either…

Also wanted to note that it'll be a cold day in Canada before I ever write "Ice Hockey" instead of Hockey. For anyone who plays, there's only once kind, the others are the ones that need the precursor ;)

I debated long and hard about whether to switch to Matthew's point of view. But the alternative was to have Ivan "overhear" so many of these conversations that it'd become very contrived very quickly. The funny thing is that originally the story was to be entirely from Matthew's point of view, funny how these things happen.

A side note, Alfred would never forget who Matthew is in this story…


	4. Chapter 4

_Alfred's cheeks burned from the bitter winter chill as he raced down the street as quickly as he could manage to get home. He pulled his wool tuque further down on his head so that it covered more of his ears before clutching his frozen hands tightly to his body to block them from the cold. He dearly wished he hadn't accidentally forgotten his gloves at home that morning._

_His backpack was heavy with the multitude of books he'd brought home, and Alfred was forced to rearrange the pack every few blocks as it jumped around on his back and eventually slipped down his shoulder._

_Most kids didn't have to bring home all their books, but Alfred needed them for Mattie._

_Thinking of Matthew stuck up in his room all day made Alfred speed up even more. He wished so badly that things could go back to the way it had been when they were younger. He missed going to school with his brother. Alfred didn't like talking to the other kids, and would instead spend the entire day planning on what lessons to bring home to Matthew._

_The great thing was that even though his brother wasn't in class, he always picked up on the material so much faster than Alfred ever could, and usually ended up explaining things that Alfred hadn't managed to understand that day._

_Alfred thought that Matthew must be the smartest kid in town. And he loved having Mattie there to help him with his homework. _

_Finally reaching his destination Alfred was surprised to see that the doors were all locked. Seeing as his mom stayed home all day, this cause some concern._

_He banged on the door loudly, not wanting to spend another second out in the cold._

"_Mooooommaaaa… MATTIIIIEEE… Let me in already. It's cold out". Alfred yelled as his teeth chattered._

_The sound of locks being opened could be heard as the pale, worn out face of his mother appeared before his eyes. Her long wavy blond hair looked a bit frazzled, and she was unconsciously pulling at strands nervously as she let her son in. She kept cocking her head to the side and wincing slightly, but Alfred knew that this in itself wasn't out of the ordinary. _

"_I'm s-sorry Alfred; I didn't mean to l-lock you out." His mother quietly told him as she led him in. She then leaned forward to whisper something to him conspiratorially. "There was a ghost in the house earlier, but I got rid of him… I-I didn't want him to sneak back in."_

_Alfred let his bag slump to the ground in the hallway foyer as he let out a loud groan and pushed past his mother. "I'll be right back Momma. You stay there."_

_He rushed to the back of the house to quickly unlock the back door and desperately looked around him for any signs of his brother. 'God', he thought to himself, 'who knows how many hours it's been, he could have frozen to death by now.'_

_His fears were quickly laid to rest as Alfred spied his brother safely in the backyard on the make shift ice rink. He was skating around while shooting pucks at the garden shed. Simply looking like he didn't have a care in the world, even though nothing could be further from the truth._

_Alfred noted that Matthew was wearing his skates and jersey. The brightly stitched letters that spelled out "ALFRED" could be seen written on the back of the red jersey. But considering everything Matthew owned was Alfred's, this wasn't a complete surprise._

_Walking up to the rink in the deep snow, Alfred called out to his brother. "Mattie, you can come in now, the door's unlocked."_

_Matthew slowed down his skating and stopped so that he was standing directly in front of his brother. His ears looked close to being frost bitten, and his blond wavy hair was mussed up from the wind. Despite this he'd obviously managed to stay warm with the help of the exercise. Matthew looked over at Alfred with sad eyes and shook his head 'no'._

"_I don't really wanna go back inside Al, if that's ok." The words were spoken in that same soft tone he always used, but they were spoken with conviction "At least not yet, not till after he's finally gotten home and gone to his study."_

_Alfred looked back at the house with worry, but knew there was no of convincing his brother; still he had to try. "But you'll freeze out here Mattie. And we have a lot of homework to do today. And…"_

_Matthew interrupted him, not letting his brother finish. "I'm not going in Al; I don't want to go inside. At least out here I can still pretend that I'm somebody, that I still matter." He paused, reconsidering things as he suddenly shivered from the chill of standing still. "Although if you could get me a hot chocolate… and maybe join me. That'd be ok."_

_Alfred wasn't too keen on staying outside anymore, but he also didn't enjoy the thought of going inside the house without Matthew by his side. So instead he pulled the toque off of his own head and plopped it on his brothers, making sure to pull down the sides so that they'd warm up Matthew's cold ears. He then put on a brave smile and agreed. "Sure Mattie, I'd love to play. I'll get you something to snack on too while I'm inside." Which of course what Alferd really meant was that he'd get Mattie some sorely needed lunch. _

_Leaving his brother to continue to skate around, Alfred reentered the house to find his mother casting him a worried glance._

"_Al… w-who's that kid you were talking to. You know I don't like you bringing home strangers over to the house."_

_Alfred clenched his fists in anger but kept his voice calm as he walked around his mother in search of the kettle._

"_That's not a stranger mom… that's Mattie. And he's all cold because you locked him out of the house. Try not to do that again."_

_His mother's concerned visage broke into one of pity, and she reached forward with a shaky hand. "Oh baby…" She whispered as she stroked his hair while Alfred resisted the urge to pull away from her grasp. "You've got to stop lying to yourself and accept the facts. Your poor brother died a long, long time ago."_

Matthew groaned to himself as he trudged all the way across the campus on his way to the library. Alfred has been forced to stay behind in class to go over some poor test results with the teacher, which left him up to the task of picking up the much needed library book on his own.

Matthew now knew he'd be up late tonight going over answers with his brother, something he normally didn't mind, but they also had that essay due tomorrow for their history class.

So Matthew told his brother he'd make his way over to the library and pick up the book they'd need, they'd meet afterwards at the coffee shop for some snacks before heading over to the Hockey tryouts.

For the most part his trip was uneventful, as most people who knew him were still in class, and Matthew soon found himself in the belly of the large richly decorated School Library.

He bypassed the front desk with a small nod and waved to the librarian before making his way over to the sections that contained the books on their topic of interest. Matthew browsed through them with a deep intensity, trying to quickly pick out the most suitable options.

It was while he was perusing the bookshelf that he heard a familiar person muttering something in an unfamiliar foreign tongue in the aisle next to him. Despite the warning voice in his head, Matthew peeked through the gaps of the bookshelf to take a gander at just what was causing the Russian student to be acting so frustrated.

A scowling Ivan was seated at a large round table that was littered with many scholarly looking books. The large man could be seen rifling through one or the other, all the while holding up what Matthew could only assume was an English - Russian dictionary.

Knowing in the pit of his stomach that what he was now doing was wrong, Matthew couldn't help but appraise the other man's features with a large sense of guilt. He didn't exactly have the right to be doing this after he'd told Ivan to leave him alone. But that damn troublesome part of himself that he could never quite kill was just fine with going over him from afar.

After all, Ivan was an attractive looking young man.

With his broad shoulders, strong chest and clearly defined arms, his whole body screamed out to the world that he was a Hockey Player, and a strong one at that; something Matthew could particularly appreciate. His thick silver hair kept falling repeatedly into his pale violet eyes and Matthew's lip quirked up into a small smile as he watched him swipe angrily at bangs again and again.

The smile quickly faded to a frown as he realized that this was more than just wrong, it was deceitful. Alfred would be furious with him if he knew what he was doing right now.

It wasn't that Alfred didn't know that he was attracted to other men, that was unfortunately something he'd learned years ago; along with everyone else in his family. And Alfred also knew that Matthew had never felt the urge to form a relationship with anyone besides his brother. The mere thought was laughable, and unrealistic. There was no one in the world he could trust as much as Al, not even his Uncle had managed to really get through to him, although not for lack of trying.

It was the fact that Alfred really didn't like this guy.

And for his part, while it wasn't unheard of for Matthew to appreciate someone before, it just usually wasn't at someone he could barely stand.

It wasn't as if he even liked the Russian student, far from it in fact. Everything about Ivan managed to grind on his nerves, raise his defenses, and generally made him want to lash out in such an uncharacteristic way that it left him extremely unsettled after any encounter with the larger man.

Oblivious to being watched, Ivan let out another muttering of whispered angry Russian before closing the large tome in frustration and leaning back in his chair, all the while running his large hands through his silver bangs in irritation. He looked down at the paper that was sitting next to one of the books, and tried to write down a few words in English. Matthew only knew this because Ivan carefully spoke each word out loud that he was trying to write on the paper.

"Da bat-tle… of Vimy Ri-dge vas to be.. von of … de most… doing vell…" Ivan paused knowing that didn't sound right and erased what he'd just written "vinning…Nyet" He again scratched out the word crossly, leaning back to glare at the piece of paper like it was his greatest enemy, and maybe, Matthew thought, it was.

All in all he looked terribly dejected. Matthew was struck by how sad his eyes looked just then, both haunted and defeated all at once. It was nothing like the Ivan he'd seen up till now.

Seeming to decide enough was enough, the Russian Student gathered up whatever books he considered was the most relevant, and made his way out to the front desk, a look of resignation written all over his face.

Matthew gladly let him go, but couldn't get rid of the feeling of nausea that was now settling in his stomach after seeing what he'd just witnessed. Something about it brought back painfully familiar feelings of something he had tried hard not to think about for a long time, and it had nothing to do with Ivan's supposed good looks either.

For that one moment of time, while he was sitting on his own in the library as he tried to make sense of a language he did not understand; Ivan had appeared so isolated, so alone, and trying so hard to speak in a voice that no one heard.

….

"Young man, calm down and please speak clearer. I have no idea what you're asking for and you're beginning to make a scene."

Ivan scrunched his brows together in frustration and took a deep breath. He didn't think he sounded frantic; he was just trying to name the title a book. The librarian didn't seem to understand what he was requesting, and had kept asking for him to repeat himself.

"Da – Dor - rus". Ivan repeated slower and quieter than the first few times. Despite the feelings of irritation, he really wasn't trying to cause any problems.

Seeing the annoyed look on the librarian, he tried again, changing the pronunciation slightly. "Da-Dow-Rus?"

Still nothing, so Ivan grabbed across the desk to get at a piece of paper so that he could write down the title of the book he was asking for. The Liberian seemed to take offence to this action and ripped the piece of paper back.

"Mr. Braginsky" The librarian sharply proclaimed after a quick glance at his library card, before continuing to speak in that most hatefully_ fast_ way that so many Canadians spoke in. It had only ever managed to leave Ivan even more confused than when he'd started the conversation in the first place.

"This is not the proper behavior for a student of this institution. I suggest you go back to your classes for now, and come back when you are prepared to act with the level of decorum that is required at St-Michael's."

The librarian hesitated a moment before adding a last most unwelcome dig that unfortunately Ivan did manage to grasp. "You're not in Russia anymore, I suggest you begin to adapt to the ways of the west. "

The insult had meant to wound, and it hit its mark perfectly. There was no anger in Ivan's eyes, only the intended hurt.

Ivan shook his head slightly in bewilderment. He was really truly sick of this country.

Just what had he done that was so wrong anyways? Why was everyone so hell bent on being rid of him today? What the hell did he have to do to prove that he was just trying to get by?

He lowered his head without a reply and started to turn around to leave the library once and for all.

A loud 'thump' was heard as a book was suddenly slammed down onto the desk in front of both Ivan and the librarian and a quietly spoken voice with the hints of an edge to it forced its way into the conversation.

"It was the Thesaurus. He's was asking for the Thesaurus."

Ivan's mouth opened ever so slightly, unsure of what to say as he looked down at the silky blond waves that currently hid any indications of what those violet eyes were thinking.

For her part, the librarian appeared flustered, looking back and forth between the two students, before finally settling her gaze on the strangely intense but always polite young man standing next to Ivan.

"Alfred Jones," the Librarian began, "I appreciate your help in this matter; you've always been a model student." She intoned, perhaps intentionally making a dig at Ivan. "But this really isn't the point here."

"But it vas." Came Ivan's suddenly cool voice, significantly more confident than it had been not moments before. "It vas exactly point. And him…" Ivan motioned over to Matthew who had yet to look over at him. "Him Mad-dew, not Alfred".

Matthew turned in surprise at Ivan's words, still genuinely surprised and disturbed any time the Russian managed to figure out which one of the twins he was.

Reciprocating the gaze, Ivan's face softened as he looked down at Matthew. "T'ank you Matvey for Da-dau-rus" He then grinned before placing the Thesaurus next to his other books and pushing them towards the librarian with a clear indication of his intent.

The librarian scowled at him before grabbing the books and quickly scanning them through the system, clearly agitated that she'd been in any way made to look the fool.

When she got to the Thesaurus she looked back up at Ivan and proclaimed with a slight air of superiority.

"You can only check out four books at a time, you'll have to leave one behind."

Ivan looked surprised and his mind ran through which books he'd selected, he needed all of them for his already doomed essay. "But I need all books".

"I'm sorry Mr. Braginsky, but those are the rules." The librarian snapped, although Ivan doubted she was very sorry at all.

Before Ivan could even begin to ponder which book to sacrifice, he saw a pale arm reach over to the pile of books sitting on the desk and grabbing the Thesaurus on top.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to please take out these two books." Matthew requested in a calm and polite way that only he could ever really pull off.

The librarian looked over at Matthew with what seemed like betrayal in her eyes before checking out both books in Matthew's name and handing them back to him with the return slip.

"Books are due back in one week. Don't lose them." Although she spoke to Matthew, she was looking directly at Ivan when she said this.

Matthew thanked her and turned to walk out of the library.

Ivan quickly wrapped up his own transaction and sped off after him.

As soon as he was outside in the bright sunlight he searched frantically for the blond haired man, but couldn't see him anywhere. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard someone walk up behind him.

"Here ya go, Ivan" Matthew muttered quietly as he handed him the Thesaurus. "And as she said, don't lose it." But before Ivan could formulate a reply, the smaller man began to walk away.

Ivan instantly reached out and grabbed Matthew's wrist, effectively stopping the other young man from leaving, but at the same time causing him to buckle at the unwanted touch. Ignoring the Canadian's reaction, Ivan quickly spoke before it was too late.

'T'ank you Matvey, I do mean dat. And…" Ivan's eyes glanced from side to side, obviously internally trying to pick out his next words. "I did not vant… did not mean to make trouble vith brod'der."

Matthew's once guarded stance slumped at those words of apology, his gaze fell to the ground, his wrist still clasped in Ivan's unwavering grip.

"I know you didn't..." Mathew sighed in defeat as he calmly reached over to gently remove Ivan's warm hand from his body, trying not to make that action seem any more defensive than it was. The feeling of Ivan's strong fingers on his bare wrist was making his stomach do that dropping thing again, and he knew that no good could come of that.

"She shouldn't have spoken to you like that." The next words were barely whispered, but Ivan heard them all the same. "Nor should Alfred have.. or me. B-but.." and his tone raised once again with confidence, and this time no malice intended. "But my brother and I have been through a lot together, and I owe him more than I can repay. We really just want to be left alone; we don't really want any new friends complicating things. And… and I need to be very clear about this. In the end, if it's a choice between Alfred or anyone else, I'm going to choose him every single time." This last part was said with Matthew raising his chin to finally look Ivan square in the eyes for the first time that day, before turning around and walking off for good this time.

Ivan let him go without fight, just like he'd done every time single since they day they'd met. But as he watched the smaller man walk down the brightly lit path, a battle waged on inside him.

He knew he had to leave him be; there was no way to keep him. But every time he met up with the blond hockey player all he wanted to do was make up some excuse to keep him around. And even though he knew he should take a cue from Matthew and just walk away, he also knew that it was already too late for that.

He couldn't change how he felt about the other young man; that ship had sailed from the first moment he'd met him.

Ivan knew that without a single doubt a worst-case scenario had arisen.

He liked Mathew Jones.

TBC…

xxxxxxxxx

Dedicated to the brave men of the Vancouver Canucks who died last night while playing Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals… well it seemed like they died… WAKE UP CANUCKS!

Author's Notes:

Phew that was a really hard chapter for me to write for some reason, I actually rewrote it three times from three different points of views. First Ivan, then Matthew, the both. So now I have the same story from all these different viewpoints.

I even changed the flashback, it was supposed to been Ivan this time… oops

I know a lot of people thought Alfred was being a complete jerk, but if you remember he wasn't mean to Ivan until after he realized that Ivan had been hanging out with his brother the day before. And Alfred has some pretty darn good reasons for being overprotective of his brother (to be reveallllleeddddd)

And now I've earned my bagel for lunch. WOO HOO.

**Canadian - American Translator**

Tuque – It's a winter hat. Sometimes referred to by Americans as a "Sweater Hat" or "Beanie"

Pronounced like "Took".. you know "Fool of Took" ;)

Ah I can see the laughing Candians right now. .. *snicker* … sweater hat… *snicker*


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: Foul Language_

_Chapter 5: _

_The hospital doors were flung carelessly open as an older gentleman with a distinguished looking grey mustache rushed through on his way towards the front desk. Anxiety was written all over his face and his hands rustled frantically while they searched through his carry-on luggage for some appropriate documents._

_A small blue booklet was quickly thrust forward at the nurses on attendance. They briefly looked down at the cover where they saw the words 'CANADA' and 'PASSPORT' clearly written, before looking back up to address the stranger._

"_I'm here for Ivan Braginsky." The gentleman said with his nearly flawless Russian. The words were ever so slightly accented, as if he'd been away for a long time. Judging from the passport, the nurses had no doubt as to where the grey haired gentleman had been staying._

_One of the nurses began to look up Braginski's information while the other, a young man, picked up the passport to view the credentials. "Mr… Dmitri… Zima…, and your relationship to the patient is?"_

_The worried old man stroked his mustache in an obvious nervous reflex while looking uneasily at the doors that separated him from the patient in question._

"_Ivan is my grandson, and I've just flown halfway around the world to see him. You have to let me see that he's ok."_

_The first nurse who'd been looking at the files let slip out a surprised "oh" as she saw a message printed on the screen in front of her and motioned for her counterpart to look at what she was reading. His expression showed equal interest before he picked up a phone and motioned for Mr. Zima to have a seat. "One second sir, we're calling down the Doctor right now, he wanted to speak with you the moment you got in."_

_Dmitri nodded that he understood, all the while clutching and unclutching the handle of his luggage. He made no motion to sit down, instead choosing to pace uneasily in the waiting room._

_It wasn't long before the Doctor in question walked through the double doors and spied the older man immediately. He looked tired and overworked, but at the same time relieved that Dmitri had arrived.  
>"Mr. Zima, I'm very glad you were able to make it. If you could please follow me, I'll take you to see your grandson."<em>

_Wasting no time, Dmitri rushed off after the man, quickly walking into step beside him._

_The doctor was the first to speak, motioning to his charts._

"_Mr. Zima, I'm surprised you were able to make it here on such short notice all the way from Toronto. The patient has no other living relatives, and it took the police quite awhile to find the right contacts. You know, we had an awfully hard time tracking you down."_

_Dmitri shook his head as if it was nothing but a short bus ride away, looking miserable as he replied "One week… it's been over one week already, I didn't get here soon enough." _

_Surprisingly the Doctor made no motion to disagree, slowing down as they came upon the room that presumably held Ivan. _

"_Mr Zima, I'm not sure how much the police have told you, but Ivan is most definitely suffering from shock and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We've been forced to put him on IV's as he's refused all food or water. And I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we've had to restrain him for his… own safety."_

_Dmitri refused to look at the Doctor while he spoke, his eyes boring into the door that he wanted so badly to break down so that he could see his Grandson. _

_The Doctor continued speaking, trying to express the gravity of the situation in the short time he knew the older gentleman would be willing to pay attention. "If we hadn't been able to find you, we were going to have to admit him to a more long term facility. We need to be sure that you fully understand the implications if you decide to accept responsibility for the patient. "_

_Dmitri's whole body stiffened and his eyes took on a hard edge that was reminiscent of his old military days in the Soviet Union. "Doctor, that 'patient' you speak of is my only Grandson! My only family left! There is no decision to be made; he's leaving this hospital with me today, with or without your approval." _

_Feeling he'd waited long enough, Dmitri pushed passed the doctor and slowly twisted the brass door handle so that the wooden door gave way to him._

_The room that was revealed was actually quite sunny and pleasant, if not deathly quiet compared to the rest of the bustling hospital._

_The nurses had apparently turned on the TV for Ivan to watch, but it had long been muted and was currently being ignored._

_And then there was Ivan, lying prone on the bed with his wrists and ankles humanely strapped down, his hair un-kept and eyes that looked dead to the world. Dmitri had not seen or heard from in over fifteen years, but here was that brave little boy who had been suffering so badly after the death of his mother and the upcoming defection of his grandfather. He had long since grown into a strong young man, but sadly, Dmitri thought, also broken one._

_Dmitri's heart ached a little as he realized how much of his daughter's features were now visible on the face displayed before him. But Ivan's mother had been dead for a long time now; and Dmitri knew he had to concentrate on some new and more recent heartbreaks._

_The older man cautiously walked into Ivan's line of sight, which was currently being diligently focused on the window. He must have known that they were in the room, but gave no reaction whatsoever._

"_Ivan…" Dmitri whispered, "I'm sorry that I am so late getting here. But I'm here now, and I can get you released from the hospital if you'd like." His hand twitched as it so badly wanted to comb through his grandson's bangs, offering some sort of comfort and affection, but he knew that this would be an unwise display at this point. He looked hopefully at Ivan for some sort of reaction._

_Nothing._

"_Would you like to leave Ivan? We can leave right if you want? Just say the word." His Grandfather asked, almost begged._

_The police had been able to prepare all the required paperwork while Dmitri had still been on the plane, they were just as eager to help Ivan leave the country as his Grandfather was. They knew full well that no good could come of Ivan's staying here. _

_The last statement seemed to have gotten through somehow, and Ivan opened a dry mouth that had not been used in some days, yet at the same time it was still scratchy and sore from overuse._

"_I don't know who you are…" There was an honest confusion in his voice._

_Dmitri didn't think he looked all that different, but a lot could change in 15 years. After all, Ivan had never once written him back all those times, only his sisters had been happy to keep up the correspondence. _

_His poor, poor sisters._

"_It's your Grandfather, Ivan, I've come back to take you home with me. You're can come live with me in Canada, just like I promised when you were a little boy. You just have to give the Doctor here your consent."_

_His grandfather almost regretted the words as he saw a flash of hurt pass through those sad violet eyes; Dmitri almost preferred the far off blank look than this altogether new one. But it quickly passed and it was replaced with one of almost relief._

"_Fine… take me away." Ivan barely whispered. "Please take me as far away from here as you possibly can."_

"All right you sorry, pathetic, spoiled, little runts. Line up and shut up!" Ordered an old bitter looking man on a pair of well used hockey skates as he screamed out loud to the large group of excited potentials.

There was an immediate silence, but none of the words dampened the spirits of a single player present. This wasn't the after school chess club after all, this was _Hockey_, and this was WAR!

Continuing to skate through the prospect students, the Coach didn't hesitate to verbally assault all those present.

"If you think for one damn second that how much money your parents make, or who you're momma is sleeping with is going to make one iota of difference in these tryouts, you are sadly 'effing mistaken! This school hires me for one reason and one reason only. TO WIN! So you have the next _TWO_ hours to prove to me that you aren't a complete waste of space on this planet, or there is no way in hell that I'm going to let you set one foot on _MY_ rink again…. Is that CLEAR!"

"YES SIR" the students yelled with ferocity.

This school was known for its Hockey team, and most of the students had come here just for a chance to make it in one of the coveted spots. Each future game could potentially be the one where they were scouted for a farm team… or better yet… the NHL!

The coach took out his clipboard and started to call out names, effectively separating the students into the different teams so that he could evaluate them. When the coach got to Ivan's name, he paused in his yelling to look up and see who was the owner. "Braginsky? Which sad excuse for a hockey player are you?"

Pushing his way through the large gaggle of students, Ivan skated up so that he was visible to the coach. Raising his stick up high in the air he revealed himself "Braginsky, sir".

The coach actually smiled as he took in Ivan's impressive size and obvious accent. "Well Comrade, welcome to the other side. Aren't you just a fine product of the great Soviet Machine!" he then shook his head with a huge grin plastered on his face, as if he has just discovered a great secret he couldn't wait to share with the world.

Ivan wasn't quite sure just what to think, the coach's sarcasm and modern words were far too confusing for him to know how to take him. The Russian wasn't quite sure if he was welcome to try out or not.

"Sir… is dere problem dat I am Russian? Can I play?" Ivan managed to ask before he lost the Coach's attention, with what he hoped was proper respect.

To his surprise the coach barked out a huge laugh, waving his clipboard as if Ivan had told him the funniest joke in the world. "Son, I'm a god damn Hockey Coach, if you skate anything like Sergei Fedevof I don't care if you go home every night to a life sized replica of Stalin himself. Now get back in line with the rest of these pansies before you get too cocky. You haven't proven yourself to me yet."

Ivan quickly made his way back into the crowd as he waited for the Coach to finish splitting up the players into the tryout teams. He took the chance to glance into the stands, genuinely surprised at the number of parents who had shown up to watch the tryouts. He knew hockey was popular in Canada… but these parents looked serious.

Being Team 'C', Ivan was eventually told to wait in the bleachers while the coach weeded out the first two teams. He put on his skate guards and carefully climbed a few steps so that he could watch all the action, while at the same time not sit too closely to the other students.

He was so lost in the proceedings that he didn't notice at first as a large figure sidle up beside him.

"Water?" someone asked him in accented English as a cup was pushed in his face.

Ivan jerked back only to see the most unlikely sight of his grandfather sitting next to him with a large smile on his face. Quickly switching to Russian, Ivan looked nervously around him.

"What are you doing here Grandfather, why are did you come to my school?"

His grandfather laughed good-naturedly before offering the water again, which this time Ivan took. "I wouldn't miss seeing my _Vanya_ play Hockey for anything in the world. For 15 years I've been regaled with stories of your skill, and now I finally get to see it for myself." He then leaned down with a glint in his eyes. "I explained to my boss that I had a very important hockey related issue to deal with, and the Consulate was more than happy to let me off for the day.

Ivan signed in himself, not quite believing that his Grandfather was telling him the truth. He wasn't particularly happy to have a spectator, but at the same time he was slightly touched that his Grandfather had come all the way from downtown for a simple thing like a team tryout. He felt the pressure to do well even more now that his Grandfather was here.

"I'm not that good Grandfather." Ivan admitted to the older man. "I will most likely not make the team. Some of the other students have private coaches on the sidelines." He said as he pointed to some very intense looking men prepping those students in question.

His grandfather interrupted him with a playful jab in his side. "In English Ivan, you need to practice it more."

Ivan threw his grandfather an annoyed look, and to the older man it almost looked like a pout.

"FINE!" Ivan repeated in English. "I am … not sure … to make… Hockey team." He threw up his hands in disgust as he said this.

"I am not sure _that I'll_ make _the_ Hockey team." His grandfather kindly corrected with a smile. "And yes, you will."

Deciding it was a lost battle; Ivan shook his head while rolling his eyes. It felt funny being teased by his Grandfather. He wasn't exactly sure how to continue with it, but he felt strangely comforted having the other man at his side.

Glancing around again, Ivan noticed that he wasn't the only one to get a surprise family visit that day. A tall well-dressed blonde with shoulder length wavy hair was entering the arena waving a lunch box that looked to contain some sort of food. He was yelling out loud to get the unwanted attention of one of the students.

"Hey! Over here! I brought you some energy food!" The man cried out merrily. None of the students seemed to want to claim relation, and the man was forced to walk over to group the large group sitting on the benches, smacking one of the players amiably on the back of his Hockey helmet.

"Alfred Francis Jones don't you dare ignore me! Now where's your brother, I brought you both some drinks too." The player in question let out a load groan. "I'm gonna _kill _Mattie for telling you about this."

Matthew, who had at that moment been walking up to rejoin the group, noticed the tall blonde and saw his brother shoot him a nasty look. He quickly spun around at the sight of his brother's ire, and tried sneak away unnoticed.

"OH NO YOU DON'T' MATTIE" His brother yelled. "This is your fault. Get over here and suffer too."

This earned him another smack from the kind relative. "Being around me is not suffering, it's a pleasure and you should be thrilled that I'm here at all. I should _really_ make you suffer by forcing you walk home after a comment like that."

By this time Matthew had slid onto the bench alongside his brother and waved shyly up at the older man. "Hi Uncle Francis. I-I… uh… didn't think you'd actually want to watch this." Matthew looked even more out of place than usual, but was polite as always.

His Uncle smiled down warmly at Matthew, his demeanor changing entirely when he addressed his other nephew, like he was trying hard not to scare away a particularly wild and timid animal. He took full advantage of the fact that Matthew didn't have his helmet on, and affectionately ruffled his hair. His voice was significantly calmer and more soothing when speaking with Matthew "Of _course _I'd want to be here, Mattieu!" He then turned to look at Alfred. "I'm Québécois after all**,** we _invented_ this so called 'Canadian' sport! And why wouldn't I want to watch my two favourite nephews getting beaten up on the ice."

"Hey" Alfred shot back. "Have a little faith in us won't you!"

"Of course I do _mes petits choux_. But I'll be just as happy if you don't make the team and I don't have to drive you every morning to practice at 4am for the next year of my life." Their Uncle cocked his head and winked playfully before backing off and letting the two nephews get ready for their turn on the ice.

Ivan watched the entire display with a mix of fascination and curiosity. To see the twins so open with someone besides each other was strange to watch. Then again, what did he really know about the two brothers?

"Friends of yours?" His grandfather asked in English, noticing the intense look his grandson gave as he focused on the other two students.

"No." Ivan replied back in Russian, his tone all of the sudden quiet but serious. "I barely know them."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ivan and the twins were appropriately placed on opposite teams for the tryout. The brothers had opted to play Left and Right Wingman positions, while Ivan was not surprisingly trying out for defense.

The larger Russian had no problems holding his own against the vast majority of the plays, but had the dual task of keeping Alfred Jones off of him. The other player just wouldn't keep him out of his sight, and kept doing plays that would eventually lead to Ivan being pushed into the side boards at one point or the other.

It was also interesting for Ivan to note that Matthew's game was for some reason being severely downplayed. Ivan kept watching as the other young man skated only just well enough to get the job done, and presumably not show-up anyone. In particular, Ivan thought, his brother.

For the most part Ivan let it go and concentrated on the game itself, but after a few more unsolicited verbal digs from Alfred, Ivan felt that surely the Mr. Jones had earned a lesson or two. It wasn't long before the chance presented itself and Ivan was forced to defend the net against the other team. He easily stole the puck from the annoying blonde and preceded to shove him into the board with just a bit more force than was actually necessary, enjoying the sound of his breath being knocked out of him.

Ivan smiled as he watched the other man swear and clutch at his stomach in pain. Although, Alfred managed to right himself fairly quickly with the help of his ever faithful twin brother.

Apparently hitting his brother was all it took to goad Matthew far enough so that felt the need to take revenge on his behalf. The smaller player went after Ivan with a true sense of conviction this time around, using advanced footwork to easily slip by the forwards and other team mates while heading towards the Russian in an effort to make sure he would have to be the one to stop him.

Ivan did his best as he anticipated the quick stick action, and almost managed to grab the puck before Matthew successfully deked him out, and Ivan felt the familiar tug on his blades that let him know he was being tripped. Matthew's elbow easily finished the job of pushing him off balance and forcing him ungracefully to the ground.

Ivan went down hard and his helmet ending up smacking the ice none too kindly as he watched his stick slide embarrassingly down the ice while Matthew scored behind him.

Before he could properly get up a loud whistle blew signifying the end of this round as the always irate voice of their Coach yelled out to both teams. "Alright I've seen enough. You lot, go clean up. TEAM 'E' and 'F' on me now!"

A figure zipped by and slammed on the breaks directly in front of Ivan's face, causing a storm of shaved Ice to spray all over him.

Alfred's mocking voice was heard as Ivan saw an ungloved hand reach down in offering. "Hey whad'ya know, the bigger they are, the harder they DO fall! Need some help getting off the rink, Comrade?"

Growling in retaliation, Ivan lunged forward to grab one of the offending skates and pull the other man down with him. But Alfred was quick enough to defend against the action and skipped just out of his reach all the while laughing. "Come on Mattie, let's hit the showers."

As Ivan started to crawl back up into a standing position, he was just able to catch a glimpse of Matthew looking back over his shoulder on his way off the rink. The blond shook his head in a mild disappointed reprimand, his lips were pressed tightly as if to say 'It's your own fault, I warned you', but his eyes relayed an entirely different message, they just looked… sad.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

Boy oh boy did I get interrupted a lot with this chapter.

Mattie was kinda in the sidelines this time around.

Sorry for the foul language… it's a Hockey Coach; it wouldn't be very realistic if he was at all nice. I actually toned it down with a few of the edits.

Yay Francis. I've been dying to get him in this story since day one, but the opportunity didn't allow itself until now. I love Francis J Yes he's French Canadian (Québécois) in this. Sorry it's the best I could do without making it contrived. And no they didn't invent hockey (although they think they did).

I do feel bad for Francis, he's trying really, really hard to be a 'dad' to these kids, but he's not really that old himself.

Zima = Russian for Winter.

So yup, General Winter. Some of you guessed this before hand, again didn't really have an opening to say who he was before. Look, Young Ivan with his Grandfather

**Sergei Fedeov**" Google him, he's a god. I imagine that Ivan plays VERY similar to his style.

Matthew of course plays like **Wayne Gretsky**, or **Syd Crosby**. Smaller, quicker but deadly.


	6. Chapter 6

_The bright florescent lights of the police station did nothing to put Francis Bonnefoy at ease. The drive up to Thunder Bay had been long and full of duress, and he still didn't really know what was going on. The only news that he'd been told over the phone was that his brother-in-law was now dead, and his sister was in custody as the prime suspect._

_As if in a strange, surreal dream the tall blonde walked through the throngs of cops as they carried on with their daily work routine. Phones rang, drunken delinquents were forced down into seats, and police officers rushed about from desk to desk._

"_Mr. Bonnefoy, over here!" A particularly busy looking officer called out to him._

_Francis made his way over to the officer all the while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Looking up at the policeman, Francis nervously asked the questions foremost on his mind. "How is she? Does she need anything? Has she said anything since the incident?"_

_The policeman shook his head gravely, almost reluctant to give away too much information without a lawyer present. "I'm afraid your sister appears to be mentally unstable at the moment. It's unclear if the murder is what caused it, of if she was this way before. But nonetheless she is currently being held at a proper facility for the time being until further notice. I'm afraid bail is not an option for the moment."_

_Francis nodded sadly to himself, his long wavy hair falling limply over his downcast face. He was not entirely surprised by the policeman's words. He'd suspected for a long time now that his sister was slowly losing grip with reality, but he spoke with her so infrequently, and for such a short duration these days that it was always hard to be sure just what her current mental state was. _

_Francis' mind immediately wandered over to his poor nephew, concern for his well being a top priority now. "What about Alfred, where is he now? He wasn't there at the time was he?"_

_The policeman shot him a sympathetic look before looking down at his notes. "I'm sorry to say Mr. Bonnefoy that both your nephews were present at the time of the incident. They are currently being seen by a children's lawyer and psychiatrist in the station holding area. It seems cruel, but it's important with children to get the facts as soon as possible while their memories are still fresh. They've been a bit difficult with some of the facts and their switching places all the time, but they are at least cooperating."_

_Francis frantic motions stilled and he gave the policeman a confused frown, wondering briefly if this had all been a misunderstanding after all. That it wasn't his sister, but some other woman who was in custody._

"_Both my nephews? Are you sure you have the right children? I only have one nephew, his name is Alfred Jones, he's 14 with blonde hair, blue eyes and wears these square glasses."_

_Now it was the policeman's turn to carry a look of confusion while he reviewed his notes. "No confusion here sir, we have an Alfred Francis Jones along with his twin Matthew William Jones. Are these not your sister's children?" It was obvious that the policeman was quickly running through the possibility he may now have some kidnapping victims on his hand._

_But as Francis heard the names spoken, his eyes widened in disbelief. He shook his head slowly from side to side and said, "B-but it's not possible? It can't be Matthieu… it simply can't be him… He's been dead for years. He died when he was only 8. I… I even went to his funeral" _

_By now the tall __Québécois was beginning to sound panicked__ and the policeman gently grabbed Francis' flailing arms; looking him square in the eyes in an attempt to slow the frantic display. "Calm down sir, we'll get this matter settled right now. But you need to remain composed if I'm going to let you near the children."_

_The policeman knew that this issue had to be settled once and for all, and he motioned for Francis to follow him. "Please come with me sir, I'll need you to confirm the identity of these two boys before anything further is conducted. But one thing I can assure you, whoever they are, they are most certainly twins. We've been completely unable to tell them apart, and both boys refuse to give us a straight answer about who is who. They are answering to both names, and are being vague about the incident itself. We suspect they are using their identity as a defense mechanism against us, but for the life of us we can't figure out why."_

_As they walked down the corridor, he continued to describe to Francis the situation surrounding the twins. "Both boys fit your description, and are indistinguishable from each save their injuries. The first boy has several broken ribs, a severe concussion, lacerations to his face and body, and when we found him, he had already lost a lot of blood. The second boy has a gunshot wound to the shoulder, and appears to have taken a punch or two to the face. But otherwise seems fine."_

_The policeman stopped before opening the door they were now standing in front of, scrunching his brows as he thought of something the suspect had said earlier. "Now that you mention it, your sister only mentioned one name in her statement. She said she'd shot her husband in an effort to save your nephew Alfred. But… we just assumed her mental state was blurring the facts."_

_Without another word he opened the door and Francis was the greeted with the sight of two identical boys sitting side by side on a couch, their hands lying between them were clutched tightly to the others as they cautiously looked up at the newcomers._

_Francis noted recognition in one of the two sets of eyes, while the other boy looked over to his brother for some indication of how he was supposed to react, all the while leaning even closer into his side. While Francis had visited Matthew many times when he was younger, it was possible the other boy didn't recognize him as easily as Alfred who'd seen him just a few months ago. _

_IF this was Matthew of course…_

"_Alfred…" Francis said as he carefully approached the two boys, kneeling down so that he was eye to eye with whom he assumed was his long missing nephew._

"_Alfred what is going on here? Is this Matthieu? How can it be Matthieu? Mon pauvre petit Matthieu…" Francis tried not to move; scared that if he did the vision of his dead nephew might disappear. He wasn't sure how he would handle his death a second time around._

_But in the end he couldn't resist raising a shaking hand to gently stroke the pale face before him to confirm it was reality. As his fingers glanced off of familiar silky blonde hair, the boy's scared open eyes flinched and he jerked away to hide behind his brother._

_Alfred also looked scared, but for an entirely different reason. He looked for all the world like the jig was up and that he had to fix the situation at any cost before it was too late. He began to beg hysterically._

"_Please don't be mad, Uncle Francis, you have to let him come with us. Please, you won't have do anything, I swear. I've kept been taking really good care of him all by myself. I promise he won't be any trouble; he's really good and he's well behaved and he's really, really smart. Please let him stay with us… don't make him go away, you c-can't make him go away…" By now Alfred's eyes were filled to the brim with scared little tears, and the young boy threw his arms around his twin as if that alone would be enough to keep him there. He was openly sobbing and repeating his litany over and over again._

_His brother's reaction could not be seen as Matthew had his head firmly tucked into his twin's arms, his small hands clutching at Alfred's clothes with all their might._

_Utter Silence filled the rest of the room, a scary realization hitting all the men at the same time._

_But Francis paid no one else any heed as he continued to realize the horrible implications of everything being said. His own inner monologue stuck in an endless terrorizing loop._

_She had lied to him… his own sister had lied to him all these years… she'd lied about her own son._

_Matthew was alive…_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Matthew stared up at the tryout results in disbelief. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, and reopened them hoping that something else, anything else, would be displayed on the neatly printed out paper that was so innocently pinned to the bulletin board.

"You've got to be kidding me…" drawled the unhappy voice of his brother. "You have simply got to be kidding me." Sadly Matthew knew that this was no joke, the plain and simple fact of it was; Alfred had not made the team.

But Matthew had.

Scanning over the rest of the sheet Matthew could see that Alfred was top of the list for the auxiliary team; a respectable position to be sure, but there had been at least one other player good enough to keep Alfred off of the main team.

Smacking the piece of paper with disgust Alfred continued to rant. "And they didn't even give you a wingman position, they have you down as a forward. You've never played forward before in your life."

No, Matthew agreed silently, he'd always played opposite he's brother as a wingman. They've always played those positions together. But still he said nothing.

"And that Russian bastard got on as Defense, this really is a joke." Alfred exclaimed as he turned to face his downcast brother. "I told you we shouldn't have bothered trying out Mattie, it was waste of our time. We haven't been in the training circuit all our lives like these kids have. Our first real hockey team was only in High School. I should have known we wouldn't get in." Alfred punctuated this by pushing away from the wall in anger.

But I _did_ get in, Matthew thought miserably. _I_ made the team… I did… not Alfred, me… _Matthew_…

"Come on Mattie, we'll have to tell the coach after English that you can't play. You don't need to be surrounded by a bunch of jerks like that all day anyways."

Alfred started to walk away from the offending bulletin board but stopped when he realized no one was following him. He slowly turned back to see his brother still staring at the board intently, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side, while he nibbled his lower lip in worry.

He kept staring at the piece of paper, willing it to change, willing the coach to walk through the doors and proclaim he'd made a mistake. This couldn't be happening, Matthew thought in anguish.

His breathing starting to get shallow, and Matthew knew that he was trembling, possibly even hyperventilating.

"Mattie…", a quiet voice said from behind him. "It's gonna be ok, it's just this year. We'll make the team next year."

"B-but… I-I … "The words kept getting stuck in his throat, and he thought he might be crying. He'd wanted so badly to get on that team, he'd worked so hard for it all summer. He even had a notepad filled to the brim with different hockey plays, ideas that he had been hoping to try out this winter.

And at night he'd been dreaming of the day he'd finally get to play in the big leagues, not just in the backyard on his own, but in a real NHL rink, in a real team, against real opponents.

Just like he used to pretend when he was stuck in that house all alone.

For so many lonely years, hockey had been the only thing that had kept him going… hockey and Alfred that was. And therein laid the problem. As much as it killed him, as much as the blood in his veins screamed at him to yell out "NO, I'm going to be on the team." Matthew would never choose anything over Alfred, he never had, and he never would.

They had promised, so long ago while they watched their mother get carted off by the police that they would always stick together. And as those same policemen tried to lead them away from the sight of their father's blown apart skull, they swore that no one would ever get the chance to do what their parents had done to them, to try and separate them for good.

"Shhhhh" Alfred whispered as he pulled his brother into a comforting hug. "It's going to be ok. I know you wanted to be on the team, and maybe we can talk to the coach. Maybe he'll change his mind, or put you on the auxiliary with me." Alfred reached over to wipe away at Matthew's tears. "I'm sorry I'm not as good as you Mattie…. But we… we need to stick together, you know that..."

Matthew nodded sadly as he sniffled a few more times, finally managing to find a small voice. "It's ok Al, I know we do. I know it's not your fault. I'm just sad, and a little… disappointed. But maybe…" He paused, looking back at the paper where a single spot remained empty, but knowing it was a long shot by far. "Maybe you could ask to be Goalie instead, that position isn't filled yet. "

Alfred leaned in closely so that their foreheads were now touching and he was able to look directly into his brother's tear filled eyes. He then moved his hands so that they were tenderly embracing the back of Matthew's head, his fingers weaving themselves delicately through his brother's fine wavy locks.

"You know I'm no good at defense or working in net." Alfred whispered kindly. "I'd have even less of a chance trying out for those positions than wingman. But don't give up yet Mattie, we'll fix this, I'll fix this. We'll make it work out. Just you see; I'll always be here to get your back. Ok?" Alfred flashed what he hoped was a winning smile, and saw Matthew nod with a forced unsure smile of his own. "And besides, I'm at the very TOP of the list for backup. If just one person quits or gets injured, I'll get bumped up the list. A lot can happen in a day, right Mattie?"

"Sure Al… thanks. I know it'll be ok in the end, just like you said." But Alfred knew his brother wasn't very convinced at all.

Alfred slowly traced his right hand down the length of Matthew's shoulder and arm before gently intermingling his brother's fingers with his own, and subsequently tugging the forlorn youth away from the offending piece of paper.

The two of them then slowly walked away from the bulletin board hand in hand, with Alfred just ever so slightly in the lead.

Neither boy bothered to look back at where they'd just come from, so neither boy saw as the bathroom door creaked opened, and a thoughtful looking Ivan peaked his head through. He looked at the sheet of paper with a pensive gaze in his eyes before looking back at the Jones Twins as they dejectedly walked away.

XXXXXXX

"Braginsky, what the fuck are you doing here right now? You made the team didn't you? I have to deal with a lot of angry Hockey Mom's right now, so you better make this quick." The sour visage of the old Hockey coach briefly graced Ivan with a glare before turning back to the piles and piles of paperwork littered across his desk.

"You… need…. Goalie, yes?" Ivan broached the topic, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

The coach stopped in his paperwork and looked up in genuine surprise at Ivan.

"Are you telling me you know how to play net?" The coach asked with a touch of anger in his voice. When Ivan nodded, the coach looked downright mad. "Then why the hell didn't you try out for the position in the first place? Do you have any idea how hard Goalies are to come by." The man furiously threw down the piece of paper he'd been going over to really look up at the young man.

Ivan hadn't tried out for net simply because he liked playing defense, liked it a lot in fact. But at this point, he liked someone else just a bit more.

In the end Ivan was an excellent goalie, and he knew it, as proven by the time Matthew had hit him with that puck. Unlike many people, he wasn't scared of getting hit by those hard little rubber disks, and his size and skill made him a worthy adversary in the net.

"I 'vas confused… in sigh up." Ivan tried to explain.

The coach eyed him warily, trying to sum up the impressive looking young man. "You know what Braginsky? I don't believe you. Not one word of it."

Ivan's whole face fell, knowing he was caught in his lie. He'd never been a great liar in Russian, no reason to believe he'd be any better in English.

"But I also really need a Goalie who is worth a damn right now. So I'll give you a try out this evening, and if you can play half as good as you in did defense, I'll move you."

Ivan's whole body lit up, his arms waving around happily as he thanked the coach profusely. "T'ank you, T'ank you. I promise to be good Goalie".

The coach looked annoyed and continued to look at Ivan intently. "You're damn right you'll be a good Goalie, or you'll be off the team. Not get the hell out of here so I can get some work done."

As Ivan left the office with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, he overheard the coach call his secretary on the office phone.

"Yeah Liz, I may need you to redo the Team list. Move Ox' to defense, and add Alfred Jones as Left Wing. I may have found us a fucking Goalie."

TBC

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Author's Notes:

And for all those who thought I was making Matthew too aggressive while playing Hockey… I show you  
>exhibit a) Canadians rioting after losing Stanley cup; and exhibit b) this isn't the first time they've done so…..<p>

Hmmm My flashbacks are starting to get as long as the main portion… not sure how that happened. And boy did I make Thunder Bay sound more interesting than it really is…

My Grandfather Winter link did not work. So here it is again.

http:/ aph. starry-sky. com/ rkgk11. Html

And lastly if you're asking yourself "Why didn't Matthew run away? Why didn't Alfred tell someone? How Could Francis not have known?" I'm sadly basing this story on several different incidents that have actually happened in real life. And the actual stories of siblings being hidden away in plain sight is bloody shocking.

It's truly amazing what children will put up with when they don't know they can just leave, or to appease a loved one.

Mon pauvre petit Mattieu = My poor little Matthew

Yes I know Alfred and Matthew have a very unhealthy and close relationship at this point, but hey, that's kinda why Ivan's here


	7. Chapter 7

"_Papa, where's Momma today?" The little boy looked up curiously at his father with innocent eyes. _

_Matthew's father gave his hair a joyful ruffle before taking the little boy's hand in his own. His other son Alfred already had possession of his right hand. _

"_You're Momma's not feeling good right now. She wasn't listening too good to your Papa earlier, but she'll be up later to make dinner." He finally said in answer. _

_Matthew giggled up at his father, not fully understanding what was going on, but happy that his Papa was in such a good mood. _

_Alfred, meanwhile, was frantically pulling at his father's arms trying to get his attention. "Papa, Papa! Guess what? Guess what?"_

"_Whaaaaat?" his father answered with overly exaggerated interest in his voice. Both boys giggled at that. _

_Alfred pretended to be coy in the way only a small boy can. "I met a pretty girl today at the park Papa. Her name is Julie, and I'm gonna ask her to be my WIFE!"_

"_Oh REALLY!" Their father feigned surprise. "And just who will take care of your brother and me when you're off with your new wife."_

"_Oh Papa, of course Mattie will come live with me. He doesn't need a wife." Alfred said proudly. _

_Chuckling to himself, their father turned to the shyer of the two children, gently prodding little Matthew to speak up for himself for once, instead of acting shy all the time, a habit that greatly annoyed the tall man. "Do you hear this Mattie, you're brother says you don't need a wife? What do you think about that? Is there any one that you have your eye on yet?_

_A red blush immediately filled out Matthew's cheeks, and he hung his head shyly, his golden hair wafting over his face with little ringlets covering his big grin. He nodded quickly as he ducked his head into his father's arms to hide from the embarrassment. _

"_So aren't you going to tell us the name of your little crush?" His father asked as he tried to tug his son out from under his arm. _

_Matthew shyly moved his head back up, and sneaked a look up at his father, his smile so wide now he could barely contain it on his little face. "Ok Papa," The little boy whispered bashfully. "His name is Steven… and um… Al said he would help me get him some flowers tomorrow."_

_The older man stopped walking altogether and his entire body stiffened considerably. Not noticing this, Alfred continued on, proud that he'd been proven right. "See Papa, I told you Mattie wasn't gonna get a wife. But I guess he can bring Steven to my house if he really wants." _

_Alfred poked his head around his father to stick his tongue out at his twin, but stopped when he noticed that the smile that had been on Matthew's face mere moments ago was gone. It was now replaced with a worried pinched look and his little eyes seemed to be filling up with tears. Matthew was anxiously trying to pull his hand out of his father's large grasp. _

"_P-apa…. You're hurting my hand… Papa... please let go. Papa…." _

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sharp pain ripped through Matthew's head as he was slammed into the sidelines by the defense. His skates lost their traction and he slid to the ground while still trying to reclaim the stolen puck with his stick. He watched with agitation as the hard black piece of rubber was flung back into his team's side of the rink, caught by one of the other side's forwards, and then shot at the net.

Naturally the puck didn't go in, not with the large Russian standing in its path.

Matthew shook his head to try and dislodge the headache he could feel brewing, and stood up to get back into the game. He aggressively skated up behind Ivan's net, and stealthily took the offered puck that Ivan had pretended to hand off to another player before letting it slide into Matthew's clutches.

Not a second was wasted as Matthew flew down the rink, dodging players, faking plays, and finally hitting a slap shot that sent the puck crashing into the opposing net.

The moment the shot was made, a loud whistle was blown, and all the players stopped to look over at their coach.

Matthew continued to glide along the ice with his blades in an arc until he was facing the exasperated coach. He leaned forward so that the stick he was holding in both hands was now resting on his knees, and his head was hung low to let out the tension in his back. A few deep breaths were inhaled in order to calm his nerve and in preparation of what he _knew_ was coming.

"Matthew, just what the friggin' hell was that? This ain't the god damn playoffs, it's a practice, and you're supposed to be practicing _my_ plays, not making up your own while leaving your team mates back in the dust."

Matthew lifted his head as he neared his brother on the ice, and nodded submissively to the overbearing coach.

"What was that Matthew? I can't hear you when you don't open your damn mouth."

"Sorry…" The smaller player whispered so quietly it come out almost as a mumble.

"What?" The coach asked again as he exaggeratedly held up his ear in an attempt to hear the quiet hockey player.

"He says he's SORRY!" Alfred snapped in his brother's defense. His patience was always pushed to the edge at the sight of his brother being put on the spot.

The coach stilled, a thoughtful look on his face crossing his face, as if to debate whether or not to let this one go for now before he knew the full situation. He seemed to make his decision for the moment, and turned to both the main team and the auxiliary team playing as the opposition that day.

"Well if he's not sorry, he's going to be. I want another few rounds of that play. And we're going to keep doing it until Matthew feels he can lower himself to play with the rest of you as a team. And YOU!" The coach turned suddenly around to face Ivan who had been standing still in the net with his Goalie mask up. "Don't fucking encourage him. It's bad enough already without you handing him the puck on a silver platter."

Ivan shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and gave the coach a sweet looking smile that at least _seemed_ apologetic.

"Damn it, does no one speak anymore? Just get into position already." The coach waved his clipboard in annoyance as he made his way off the ice.

"And a new rule for today only. 'Rocket Richard' over there," the coach pointed to Matthew, "doesn't get a puck unless it's been passed to him. And no goal he scores counts unless he has passed to at least one other person on his way up the rink."

Matthew nodded again that he understood and turned to his brother with a loud sigh. "Sorry Al, I just got carried away."

His brother raised his brows and smirked playfully as he patted Matthew on the back. "yeah, 'cause they stole _your_ puck? Damn you're possessive about that thing."

Matthew could feel his cheeks grow warm in embarrassment. He certainly hadn't meant to show off. It was just that when those auxiliary players had checked him and stolen his puck, they had done it with such amateurish moves that Matthew had been mad at himself for being bested so easily.

He stumbled a bit as he felt his brother punch his shoulder roughly. "Hey, snap out of it Mattie, I know what you're thinking. You always worry too much. Coach doesn't really think you're a bad team player; he's just trying to make sure you learn the plays in time. He practically drools every time he sees you on the ice, so knock it off."

Matthew looked back up appreciatively at his brother; Alfred always knew the right things to say. And Alfred in turn smiled knowing he'd gotten through to him, but the moment was short lived as the Coach once again blew the whistle shrilly.

"What is this, you're lunch break? Get in your damn positions already."

Both brothers skated into position and the practice began afresh. The teams on either side played hard for the next few hours, but it wasn't without a few more hits to Matthew's head, the price of being in a Forward position.

Near the end, Matthew could really feel his head pounding from the abuse. His vision seemed to be getting a bit blurry as well; enough so that it explained why he wasn't then able to keep proper control and footwork, allowing the other team to once again steal away with the puck.

By this point in the game both teams knew that Ivan was a bit like an impenetrable fortress, not a single goal had met its mark so far that day.

At the same time as three of the opposing players tried for a complicated pass to score, both defensemen struck out from the sides in an effort to defend their goalie. The effect was that the five young men ended up going for the same target at the same speed, and unfortunately that target was Ivan.

Ivan, along with his net, was flung back hard into the wall. A few players tried to right themselves in time, but all this did was to further trip up some of the other players into award painful positions.

The Coach immediately jumped into the action, blowing his whistle hard to stop all play. By the time he reached the players, his voice wasn't the same hard tone he usually used.

"Alright back up, back up! Let me through. Is anyone hurt? Braginsky, how ya doing there big guy? Your head feel ok?" The coach did once over's on all the players while he helped them back onto their feet, paying particular attention to look into Ivan's eyes for any signs of being hit too hard. Accidents like this might seem comical to the bystander, but people had been paralyzed for life just by hitting the net the wrong way.

When Ivan finally stood up, he lifted his mask with the same soft smile he usually wore, albeit a bit strained. "Da, I'm fine." He then held up his huge gloved hand and said "I have puck to prove it."

The auxiliary team let out a loud groan; for all that, they still hadn't managed to score on the Russian. The coach snorted and shook his head in amusement. "And you wanted to play defense…"

Turning to address the rest of the players, the Coach spoke up. "Ok, showers everyone, practice is done for today. I want to speak to all Offence players before you go today, but the rest of you are done.".

Matthew made to follow his brother over to the coach's corner, grimacing as his head rattled again. But before he'd even made it a few steps, the coach held up his hand in Matthew's direction. "Not you 'Rocket', don't think I didn't notice those hits you took today. Get over to the rink Medical Station and get an icepack and some Advil and go relax."

"Yes Coach, b-but… could I stay first for the meeting." Matthew asked hopefully. Just the thought of being left out of an Offensive discussion made him burn on the inside.

The coach's calm demeanor turned sour once more as he regarded Matthew fully, but there was a serious edge to his voice. "Kid you have got to get this final game mentality out of your head. Don't kill yourself over some practice. I can't speak for future coaches who may throw you under the bus the first chance they get a crack at some big game, but right now you're under my supervision. And I'm not going to ignore a single split nail if it means you never get to play Hockey again. So clean up and go get you're head looked at, Clear?"

Matthew looked properly reprimanded and he nodded softly before turning to skate off. Alfred turned to follow him before being jerked back by the coach. "And just where do you think you're going? I said Offence didn't I? That includes my wingmen right?"

"I-I was going to look after Mattie." Alfred sputtered. His eyes were wide as he looked back and forth from his brother to the Coach.

"No… you're going to be part of this discussion and then relay it to your brother when I'm done." The Coach's tone brokered no room for discussion. Although Alfred seemed ready to try before Matthew piped up to end the argument once and for all.

"Alfred it's ok. I'll see you in a bit. I'll be waiting in the locker room for Uncle Francis to show up anyways." Without fully realizing it, his voice then took on a slightly bitter turn when he said, "I can get myself some Advil without any help." He hadn't meant to say it, but somehow it just slipped out. And as soon as he'd spoken the words, he didn't regret saying them.

He quickly skated off the rink before his could see or hear the hurt expression that was sure to be on his brother's face.

Matthew swiftly made his way over to the changing room, showered, and was packing his gear up before finding himself at the Medical Station at the rink.

The room was located in a part of the building that was an add-on to the original rink structure, and the room could be found along of the side hallways. There really shouldn't have been anyone else here this time of day, but to Matthew's surprise the door was slightly ajar. He could easily hear some loud noises coming from inside as if someone was struggling.

The sounds were punctuated by some angry sounding Russian swear words, and it was more than enough to give Matthew the courage to open the door and see what was going on.

Whatever he thought he'd see; this was certainly not it. Ivan stood in the middle of the room, still mostly kitted up in his goalie outfit while he was struggling to take his blue and white jersey off. His helmet, mask and gloves had long been discarded to the ground, and Matthew caught some blood droplets not far from where Ivan now stood.

At first the Russian did not notice Matthew's entrance, but as he turned around in little hops in an attempt to remove the offending article, his angry swear words died down as soon as he noticed the other young man standing in the door way with his clean shirt and wet hair from the shower.

Immediately Ivan shot his left arm down and moved it to hide it behind his back. His eyes were wide in surprise and he forced another one of those little smiles that Matthew hated to admit he thought looked sweet and maybe just a little be charming on him.

"Matvey… you have pain? Need help?" Ivan asked, but Matthew could easily see it was said more as a distraction than out of any real concern.

Trying to look cool and collected himself, Matthew pretended he hadn't noticed anything unusual as he pointed to the cabinet beside Ivan's left arm.

"I just came for some Advil and an Ice pack, do you think you could hand them to me." Matthew cocked his head expectantly, curious to see what Ivan would now do.

Ivan's expression hardened in determination as he prepared to reach up and open the cabinet. The simple act of moving his arm from behind his back brought pain to his eyes.

Seeing the hurt in even that small of an action, Matthew decided now would be a good time to intervene and launched forward. "Never mind, I'll just grab them myself."

As soon as he was within reaching distance of Ivan, he disregarded the cabinet and instead grabbed the larger man's arm and pulled it behind his back again.

Ivan screamed in pain as his knees buckled and he fell forward to land with his good arm resting on the medical bed next to them.

Matthew ignored the swear words now being thrown his way, and helped prop Ivan up so that he was sitting on the bed. He then started pulling the jersey off before the other man could regain his senses and protest.

As soon as Ivan's arm was exposed, the problem that was causing him so much pain became apparent. His left forearm had been slashed open on the underside, and it looked to be a very deep cut.

Ivan opened his mouth to make some sort of excuse but Matthew didn't let him say a word as he sprung into action.

He tore open the medicine cabinet door and riffled through until he found some cleaning materials and some thick bandages. Matthew then wiped at the cut a few times before grabbing Ivan's other hand and forcing it to hold a compressor bandage over the wound.

Then, and only then did he relax enough to address the unhappy Russian.

"Ivan… just… what… were you trying to hide that injury?" Matthew finally asked as he started to unclasp the larger man's hockey pads around his torso. Ivan shook his head in answer, his bangs falling to hide his eyes from Matthew's view.

"Then you won't mind if I get the coach in here." Matthew hedge, guessing that Ivan would in fact mind very much.

He was right, as Ivan's eyes grew wide and he dropped the bandage in order to grasp Matthew's shoulder.

"NYET! No! Do not tell!" He commanded.

"Why shouldn't I?" Matthew replied in a quiet voice as he ignored the increasing pressure on his shoulder from Ivan's strong grip. When Ivan didn't answer, Matthew carried on. "He'll just call your parents, and drive you to the hospital. You're Mom can pick you up after."

Ivan's grip loosened and he bent over to pick up the dropped bandage before reapplying pressure. By now his hands were covered in a good amount of blood. "I do not t'ink Mud'der come, ven I little boy, she die." His voice seemed calmer now, maybe realizing that Matthew was willing to listen to his reasons. "But… Grandfad'der …vould be… sad."

Matthew noticed that Ivan mentioned nothing about his father. Either way, he instantly felt guilty for bringing up the parents at all. Sighing to himself as he removed the last of the hockey pads, Matthew lifted up the other man's arm and settled himself up beside him on the bed. He then began to really get a look at the wound so that he could clean it properly.

"I'm sorry." Matthew mumbled. "I didn't know your mother had passed away." Pausing in his ministrations to the cut, Matthew looked briefly up into Ivan's sorrowful eyes and found himself asking a question he would normally never had dared to ask. "Did… you love her… your mother?" Matthew's voice was softer now, but the question was asked in such earnestness that it through Ivan back a bit.

The Russian tilted his head in curiosity, but did not seem offended. 'Yes, I love my Mud'der. But… maybe I forget." Ivan frowned to himself as he said this, not sure if the words were coming out right.

Matthew continued to carefully clean the wound, nodding as if he understood, even if he didn't. Then barely in a whisper, "I hated my mother…"

And then nothing more was said.

The Russian didn't say anything in reply, but it was obvious from his expression that he'd heard the odd comment.

For the life of him, Matthew could not understand what had given him the inclination to talk about that awful woman that he despised so much. He'd never confided that with anyone before, most certainly not to Alfred or to his Uncle Francis.

He swallowed the thick lump that had developed in his throat and actively put all his thoughts into applying the liquid stitches onto the now clean and fairly dry wound.

"I… uh..." Matthew wasn't quite sure how to word this, but felt the need to get it out quickly so as to change the subject. "I-I wanted to thank you for stepping down on defense. I don't know if you did it on purpose or not… but I wouldn't be on the team if you hadn't done that. So thanks… I guess."

Again, nothing was said as Ivan continued to watch the blonde with a look of deep concentration as he worked on his arm. Matthew didn't seem to mind the silence, and it almost encouraged him to speak up some more.

"This needs to set for a few minutes before I apply the bandage, ok?" Ivan nodded, but made no motion to move away as Matthew still needed to keep his arm elevated up in the air.

It was only at that moment that it dawned on Matthew just how closely he'd allowed himself to get to the other man. Ivan was still warm from the workout, and his thin white undershirt was soaked through from the exertion of both the game and trying to get his jersey off earlier. Matthew knew he should have been putt off by the sight, but it instead made him feel light headed in a way that had nothing to do with the knocks his head had taken earlier.

From this distance Matthew could clearly make out the outline of every muscle on the Russian's torso, right down to the impressively toned midsection. His mind betrayed him when it noticed how easy it would be to lean over right then and map out out a pattern over the cloth where hints of Ivan's body peeked through.

Startled, Matthew knew he'd been caught in the act when he felt a soft hand gently tilt his chin so that he was now looking up into Ivan's pale coloured eyes.

Such sad eyes, Matthew thought to himself, so alone…

For a moment neither man spoke and seemed content to observe the situation in silence while taking in the other's close proximity.

Shame filled Matthew's senses at the way his body was reacting to the strong Russian being so close to him, but at the same time those senses were being filled with Ivan's scent that was as distinctly masculine as anything Matthew had ever been around before. He responded by worrying his dry lower lip in frustration.

The nervous action made Ivan smile that soft smile that he did so well, as he bravely moved his fingers away from Matthew's chin and up along his jaw so as to brush back some stray wet locks behind his ear that had been clinging stubbornly to his flushed cheek.

Their faces were so close now that Matthew could actually feel the heat off of Ivan's shallow breaths as they brushed across his lips. Ivan himself didn't appear to be in much better shape and almost looked like he was in a daze as those very same lips captivated his eyes.

"Ты такая красивая" Ivan muttered quietly to himself as his thumb moved back to ever so delicately trace over the object of his interest.

Whatever spell Matthew had been under was broken the moment the foreign words left the Russian's mouth, and he snapped back with worry written all over his pale face.

Grabbing the remaining compressor bandage, Matthew fumbled with the end as he tried to quickly wrap it around Ivan's left arm while putting some space between them.

Ivan tried to quickly rectify the situation with a gentle "Matvey…" but was interrupted by a much louder voice at the door.

"Mathieu?"

It was obviously Matthew's Uncle, and both young men turned sharply in his direction. They were greeted with the sight of his Uncle Francis, as well as his brother Alfred who were standing in surprise at the doorway.

The tall blonde Frenchman slowly entered the room with a concerned look directed at Ivan. "Is everything Ok Mathieu... the Coach said that you were sent here for your head." Although it was obvious that he was not talking about his reason for being in the Medical Station.

Matthew nodded towards his uncle that he was ok, but he couldn't take his eyes off the sight of his brother silently fuming in the doorway, proving beyond a doubt that he'd been caught in the act of doing something very, very unwise.

Alfred was strangely quiet, but his expression made it clear that he was beyond furious. Matthew suspected his Uncle's presence was the only thing holding him back right now.

"I'm f-fine Uncle, I was just helping Ivan here with a cut to his arm. B-but… but I'm done now, and I'm ready to go home." Mathew was face was deathly pale now, and he wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment, or from being alone with the Russian man who kept putting him off balance every time they interacted.

"Will he be ok?" Francis asked as he gave a weary look towards the larger student.

'I vill be ok now, 'tanks to Mad'dew." Ivan answered in his place, although he looked over at Matthew while he spoke. "I go home too." He then went to lower his arm, but Matthew stopped him, motioning to the unraveling dressing.

With shaking hands, Matthew secured the bandage with some clips, and jumped off of the bed to walk towards his brother. Alfred wasted no time in taking hold of his hand and holding onto it with a bruising force.

As they left the Medical Room once and for all, Matthew couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes, or to even say good-bye as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the door behind his brother.

His Uncle, who wasn't far behind him, was all the while continually casting a worried look between Matthew and back towards the room they'd just vacated.

TBC..

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Author's Note:

Well I took the weekend off from writing to have some fun in the sun, just when you were all getting used to my quick updates (suckers) :P

I have to tease you again, I won't be writing for 3 days because of work, but should be back to normal this Friday.

-Maurice "Rocket" Richard is the first "great" hockey player, and a legend in Canada. He was also a big scorer (hence the Coach teasing Matthew with that name).

- Ты такая красивая= Ti takAya Kraslvaya = You are so beautiful.

That's all I've got for today. I LOVE all your reviews so far. I've gotten s many wonderful insightful comments, and so far no flames (knock on wood). So please keep those reviews coming


	8. Chapter 8

_The club atmosphere was thick with the feeling of excitement and lust while a steady stream of pulsating beats penetrated through the crowd. Bodies were intermingled so carelessly throughout the smoke filled room that was it was hard to truly grasp who was with what partner at what time._

_To Ivan Braginsky, none of the proceedings were anything but a distraction for him as he leaned against the back wall hiding in the anonymity of the shadows. For someone who hated to dance, there was something almost surreal about stepping back from the fray and merely watching the events on the floor as they unfolded, as if he was merely an invisible observer in this strange underground world._

_A glass with a familiar stinging clear liquid was brought to his lips and shot back into his throat. It lingered there awhile before the burning was sufficient enough for Ivan to swallow the vile liquid. It was by no means high-grade vodka, but it was perfect in a place like this, and just what he needed to find the courage for what he was about to do._

_In the end Ivan didn't need to wait as long as he thought he was going to have to for a pair of determined arms to wrap around him from the side; warm lips reaching up to nip at Ivan's unfortunately exposed neck. _

_Swearing to himself, the large Russian slammed back the rest of his drink before depositing the glass on one of the wall ledges._

_He made no move to respond in kind to the wandering hands or the teasing lips as they reached up to nip at his earlobe before returning to the junction of his neck. With a heavy sigh Ivan turned his body to face the newcomer, ever so gently putting some distance between the two._

_The young man in question was fairly good looking and probably only just 18. He had shortish brown hair that was styled nicely for a night out at a club, and an outfit to match. He wore a smirk that promised a lot of things, and his brown eyes raked over Ivan's much too casual attire._

"_Couldn't just dress up for me for me, could ya?" The young man finally asked; amused at the annoyed look Ivan gave him_

_._

"_Sasha… could we please talk for a moment." Ivan managed to ask the young man who looked like he couldn't have disagreed more with the idea if he tried, and he did try._

"_We've talked enough Ivan; instead, how about we go into that backroom over there," Sasha replied with a slight slur to his voice, pointing to a room that obviously had some sort of two way mirror."And you can finally bend me over and fuck me as hard as you want against that mirror while we watch everyone dance around us obliviously." The smaller man leaned back forward to once again nip at Ivan's neck. "How does that sound big fella'." This last bit was punctuated by Sasha actually licking the length of his neck._

_Ivan jerked his head back in irritation, making sure to establish some much needed space once and for all. He tried hard to suppress the instinctual need to just push the other man away and walk off, knowing he had to handle this situation with at least some delicacy._

_The well-known feeling of regret filled his gut yet again, and for the 100__th__ time that day he wished that he'd just listened to his father and stayed clear of this place to begin with. If he had, he wouldn't be in this position right now and he wouldn't need to thwart the unwanted advances of someone he really didn't need to get involved with in the first place._

"_Sasha…" Ivan paused, wondering just how was he going to approach this. The other man was clearly already annoyed from having his perceived toy not wanting to play, and if Ivan wasn't mistaken, he already had a slightly glazed look to him that indicated at least some kind of drug had been used that night._

_Of all the people in the club that he could have possible attracted the attention of, Ivan had caught the eye of the worst possible one. _

_All he had wanted to do when he first started coming here was to slip away into a surrounding where he could possibly meet others like him, where he didn't have to hide who he was, where he could maybe lose himself in a drink or two_

_But it was not supposed to be like this, and NOT with Sasha. _

"_Sasha," Ivan tried again, "I can't do this with you. I…" don't want to do this with you. "I didn't come here for this."_

_The smaller man's face crinkled in disbelief. "Ah Ivan, you're just too stiff, too stuffy, too... restrained." Sasha smiled again and it wasn't that pleasant smile from before. "I could take care of that you know; I could take good care of you… you know I could..." His hand stealthily reached down to try and grab Ivan below the belt, but the larger man caught the movement and latched onto his wrist, holding it firmly in his strong grip in a no nonsense sort of way._

"_I'm not asking you Sasha, I'm telling you, I don't want this. I enjoy your company greatly, but…" Sasha came from a world that was very different from were Ivan now lived. By getting involved with someone like that he could put his whole family at risk, something he would never do for anything in the world, and certainly not for some short lived torrid affair that Sasha was proposing._

_Sasha in turn yanked his arm out of Ivan's grasp, his expression turning decidedly sour. "But? But what? You're too full of yourself to see a good thing when it's offered. Do you honestly think I'd put up with you boring conversations if I didn't think I'd get something out of this? Who the hell are you to decide this is over? Well? Tell me?" Sasha pushed him hard, and with anyone else it might have even succeeded in putting him off balance._

_Ivan had thought the other man would be upset at the rejection, but looking now Sasha didn't just seem mad, his brown eyes betrayed a look of hurt that surprised Ivan. "Is it because you think you're so high and mighty that you're too good for me? Well? Is that it?"_

_Another shove._

"_No Sasha, that's not what I…" Ivan tried to calm down the increasingly agitated young man before him. _

"_Well fuck you Ivan. I don't fucking need you…so just… just… fuck off." Sasha pushed away from Ivan and while ever so slightly disorientated, stormed off. As he walked past an empty table, he made sure to grab an abandoned drink that stood there all alone, and he chugged it down before throwing the glass against the wall in anger._

_Ivan watched the retreating form of his admirer and the image of the glass shards as they descended to the ground. He reached up with his right hand and raked his fingers through his thick hair._

_He had to get out of this place now; and never, ever come back. This had been a mistake from the start._

_As he made his way over to the coat check, a single thought prevailed in his mind._

_Why hadn't he just listened to his father? _

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Ivan arrived back home not too long after leaving the Hockey practice. The walk back hadn't been particularly lengthy, but carrying a heavy kit bag with the large cut in his left arm hadn't been the easiest of tasks. Still, he'd arrived around the time he said he would, and as he entered the front door he could instantly make out the smell of supper being cooked.

Gently laying his kit bag on the ground, Ivan followed the sound of his Grandfather humming some old Russian tune while he bustled around the kitchen. Ivan stopped to lean against the door frame so as to observe his grandfather as he moved from the stove to the table to the oven with the ease of someone who'd been cooking for many years.

Ivan cocked his head to the side as he watched his Grandfather work; it always surprised him how comfortable the old man was in this small house. Even living in it alone for so many years, he had still managed to make it his comfortable little home.

Turning around, his grandfather caught sight of Ivan watching him from the doorway and ushered the young man in to sit down. "Ah Ivan, sit down, you have timed your arrival just right. Dinner will be ready shortly."

Nodding quietly Ivan obediently sat down at the small kitchen table, feeling like he should offer to help in some way, but knowing from experience he'd just be turned down.

"Did you have a good day at school today?" His Grandfather asked, as always trying to start a conversation with the normally quiet young man.

Ivan nodded absently while the other man looked at him for some sort of reaction.

"How about Hockey practice? Are you enjoying it now that you have made the team?" Another bright smile from the old man who was most likely hoping that this would be the topic that Ivan might open up to.

Again Ivan nodded, not really sure what to say around the other man. His Grandfather kept looking at him expectantly. But the more he did, the more Ivan began to feel that much more out of his depth. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk with him, in some ways he was desperate to talk to the one person in this world who had an idea of what he was going through. He just didn't know how to do so when there were so many other things not being said at the same time.

His Grandfather sighed lightly in defeat, brushing off his Grandson's behavior as he always did, and went back to preparing the meal.

Looking down at the table in his own frustration at not being able to make things easier on his Grandfather, Ivan winced as he suddenly felt his left arm throbbing from the deep cut. His right arm slowly reached up to gently rub at the spot where his shirt hid the hastily applied bandage.

Thinking of the bandage, and the events that led to its application, Ivan's thoughts became a bit more disordered.

He really hadn't been trying to make trouble for anyone, the exact opposite in fact. As silly as it sounded, he had been deathly afraid his Grandfather would hear of the cut and think… and think maybe that it hadn't been so unintentional.

Of course injuries were common in this sport, but that didn't change the fact he'd just started doing something that he knew gave his Grandfather some hope for him, and he wasn't ready to sully that with any news of injuries, accidental or not.

His Grandfather had enough to worry about without adding to it any more concerns about himself. To Ivan it seemed as if all his Grandfather did these days was worry about him.

Ivan lightly stroked the bandage and his face softening at the thought of Matthew's hands wrapping this very same dressing not an hour before. Just the thought of the blonde Hockey player warmed him on the inside in a way he hadn't thought possible anymore.

To think that after such a short time, merely being alone in his presence was enough for him to throw caution to the wind and do… do what he did.

He hadn't been thinking straight at the time, but he had meant every look… every action.

Just the way Matthew had appeared at that moment with his wet hair clinging to him in strands, his cheeks and lips flushed, the quiet way he talked with Ivan when he wanted to; it was more than enough to break him if Matthew had just tried.

And Ivan was really beginning to wish he would try.

But Matthew didn't just intrigue him, there was something about the shy yet strangely defiant young man that calmed Ivan, maybe even… centered him. When he thought of Matthew his heart didn't hurt so much, his mind didn't seem so clouded. There were no painful memories of screaming or the coppery smell of blood, there was just …. Matthew.

"You have a secret smile my Vanya. Just what could have possibly have captured your thoughts in such an enigmatic way?" His grandfather teased, interrupting his train of thought as he placed the food on the table.

Embarrassed that he'd been caught openly thinking of the smaller Canadian, Ivan immediately dropped the smile and reached over to start serving the food to both of them, effectively trying to ignore the question.

Disappointment showed on his Grandfather's face once again and Ivan felt guilty for not being able to share these kinds of things with the other man. On top of everything else that had happened, Ivan's sexuality was not something he was comfortable talking about. The thought of what his Grandfather might say or do if he knew… it made Ivan's heart constrict in pain all over again.

"I was thinking about the Hockey practice, Grandfather," Ivan lied in an attempt to fix things as he started to eat the meal lovingly prepared by the older man.

His Grandfather immediately perked up, and fell back to the gentle teasing he liked to use when he could. "I am happy that my Vanya is playing again, but I am no old fool? You were not thinking of a game with that colour on your cheeks, you were thinking of a girl!" His grandfather positively beamed when he saw Ivan's fork jerk a bit at the gentle accusation.

Ivan only shook his head no while he diligently tried to avoid his Grandfather's eyes, regretting even trying to come up with a lie in the first place.

His Grandfather was oblivious to the mood change and continued on. "I'm sure she is very pretty to have caught your eye. Does she come to the practices to watch you play? What is her…"

Before his Grandfather could carry on, Ivan dropped his fork back to the plate, both his hands opening and closing in unease He was now staring more intently than ever at the food before him. "Grandfather please stop… there is no girl so please… just stop…"

The words were quietly spoken, but they were enough to convey how uncomfortable he was with the whole conversation, because his Grandfather did stop.

Silence befell the table in an awkward fashion, neither Russian moving to say a word or to even start eating again. After a lengthy enough time had passed, Ivan braved a look up at the now still figure of his Grandfather. He was surprised to see the other man looking at him with a sad, broken expression; his food was now completely forgotten.

All joviality had left the old man as he nodded to himself sadly. "Of course Ivan, I'm sorry for being such a nosy old man. I just… I just wanted to maybe share in whatever it was that was making you smile. I've… I've not seen you smile since before you…. since you were a little boy."

His Grandfather's fingers flexed slightly around his own fork before abandoning the utensil completely; he then stood up much to Ivan's surprise and began to clear away his dishes. "I don't feel very hungry Vanya, it's been a long day."

Without looking back at him, his grandfather started to make his way out of the kitchen, pausing only when Ivan called out his name. "Grandfather, wait! Stop!"

His Grandfather did stop, but he didn't turn around to face Ivan, and his words were spoken apologetically and were framed was a good deal of sadness and regret.

"I sometimes forget that you barely know who I am; I am almost a complete stranger. To you I am some strange man who keeps asking you to trust him after stealing you away from the country you love." His grandfather held onto the doorframe, gripping it as if it was maybe helping to keep him stand upright, but still he did not turn around. "I was there when you were born, would put you to bed at night, I would walk you to the park every day while your mother was busy with your baby sister, and you would tell me everything, simple everything. But you don't remember those things do you?"

"Grandfather, I do… a bit" Ivan tried to interrupt, but he didn't get very far.

"You used to be such a happy little boy, wearing your heart on your sleeve; even after your mother died you were still that same open child. And now…" His grandfather voice faltered, and Ivan knew that the catch in his voice wasn't just a trick, but the likely indication he was witnessing his Grandfather break down for the first time, "and now I stay awake at night terrified that they killed that heart along with everything else they took from you."

TBC…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Notes:

-Told you I'd have the next chapter out on Friday.

-Hmm this chapter was basically all in Russian :P

-You can go to a bar at 18 in Russia…. Ahhh smoking in bars… aren't you glad those days are gone (did I just show my age….)

It's going to be hard (and was hard today) to write about Ivan's past. His past is a delicate story to tell. He did not suffer as long as Matthew did, or in the same way, but there are some distinct parallels between the two stories. I'll give it my best though.

I am sooo thankful right now for even one follower of this story , because quiet simply no one could be reading SO thank you all who are sticking with it. And I will happily complete the few of you sticking with it (should have the next 6-10 chapters out in the coming week or 2.


	9. Chapter 9

_Delicate hands traced a soothing pattern up and down along the brow of a young boy no more than eight years old. Deep in the safe recesses of sleep, Matthew slowly began to rouse to the soft melodic sounds of his mother's humming. She held his head in her lap and was swaying gently back and forth to some unknown beat in her head that only she could hear._

"_Momma… why are you up?" Matthew asked through unfocused sleepy eyes. She stopped her humming to smile down at him while she continued to caress his temple; it was only then that Matthew could see that she had been crying._

"_Because Mathieu, I love you." Her rocking did not stop._

"_I know that Momma, I know you love me." And he did know this._

_It wasn't her fault that Papa hated him, it wasn't her fault she wasn't strong enough to stop him. She did everything she possibly could for him._

_Matthew loved his Mother; and nothing was ever going to change that._

"_I'm glad Mathieu; I really am because… because I've finally figured out a way to keep you safe. So you'll never be hurt again." His mother was still crying, but her voice sounded so happy, so joyful and carefree, it confused the small blonde boy exceedingly._

"_Ok Mama…, but…" His mother didn't let him finish before taking his hand in her own and pulling him up to follow her out of the bedroom._

"_Now you have to be quiet Mathieu, we don't want your Papa to hear us, do we?" His mother asked as they carefully walked down the stairs._

"_Ok Momma." Matthew quickly cast a look back over at his room to see if Alfred had woken up, but the room was as dark and quiet as when they'd first left it._

_Mother and son made their way outside hand in hand. The young boy blindly followed his mother's barefoot steps as they trekked into the darkness. It didn't take long for Matthew to realize that they were walking to the river only few blocks away from their house._

_Before they reached the bank, his mother turned back to Matthew, her voice and actions conveyed a seriousness that he'd rarely seen in his 'distant' mother these days._

"_Now Mathieu, do you know why your Father is upset with you?"_

_The little boy nodded his head yes. _

"_It's because he thinks you are unclean, impure… a deviant. B-but we're going to fix that. You and me, we're going to go into that river… and I'm going to baptize you, and then your father will never touch you again. Do you understand?"_

_Matthew didn't understand, he'd been baptized as a baby and wasn't sure how a second time would make his father love him again. But he loved his mother, and if she thought this was going to put things right, then he believed her._

_His mother in her nightgown and Matthew still in his flannel pajamas, they both walked waist deep into the river. The water was ice cold, even at this time of year, and Matthew shivered while trying to keep a brave face for his mother. She must have caught the scared, unsure look in his eyes, because she reached over to calmly stroke his face again. "It's ok Mathieu, have I ever lied to you before? Have I ever hurt you in anyway before? I love you Mathieu, you know that right?"_

_Shaking from more than the cold now, Matthew nodded his head, trying to be fearless for his mother. She had never laid a hand to hurt him, never done anything but given him comfort and cared for him when he was injured. If there was one person in this world he could trust, it was his Mother._

"_Yes Momma, I love you too. B-but… but why are you crying?" He asked as she slowly turned him around and carefully laid him backwards until the rear of his head and tips of his ears were emerged into the cold river water._

"_Because Mathieu… I'm going to miss you so, so much." These were the last chilling words Matthew heard before his mother pushed him all the way down. And while it was enough to warn him that something wasn't right, it wasn't until too late before he realized what was really going on._

_For a few painstaking moments he actually let his own mother drown him before the dawning understanding of the situation, and the inevitable need to breath forced him into action. The young boy began to flail frantically, kicking hysterically into the waters, while his hand scratched and clawed at his mother's unmoving hands._

_She had a surprisingly strong grip holding him down on his chest, while the other hand was placed on his head to prevent even a chance of gasping some air._

_Matthew's lungs began to burn, and his movements quickened to compensate for the lack of oxygen, but nothing he did could move his mother's suddenly powerful hands._

_Instinct kicked in, and Matthew was tricked into trying to breath in some air while still underwater, but there was no air to be found. His lungs were instantly filled with the cold liquid that was surrounding him like a coffin, and he was soon gagging as well trying to breathe._

_And just like that his vision began to blur, his movements slowed and Matthew knew without a doubt he was dying._

_In the last moments of his life, all he could think of was that there was nothing and no one who could save him now, not even his own mother._

_His one hand that had been gripping his mother's forearm slowly began to loosen along with his consciousness, and as the last ounce of awareness left to him, Matthew could feel his Mother's grip suddenly let him go, and another pair of hands pull him from his watery grave._

_But it was too late._

_Matthew knew he was already dead. _

_And just like before, fingers once again traced themselves delicately across Matthew's brow, but unlike the peaceful slumber he'd woken up from the last time, all he could feel now was pain._

_Had it all been a bad dream?_

"_Shhhhh" a voice was heard from above, "Take it easy Mattie. I've got you now."_

_Matthew tried to speak, but his chest ached, and his words came out as deep uncontrolled coughs instead. The motion only brought more pain as his head threatened to split open._

_Slowly, very slowly, Matthew opened his sore eyes to look up at the blurry figure whose lap he was now resting in._

"_Momma… did it work? Am I safe now?" The hazy image cleared above him and revealed not his mother, but his twin brother Alfred. His arms didn't feel as soft and warm as his Mother's had, but for the moment Matthew didn't care too much._

"_Yeah M-mattie, you're safe now." But Alfred's voice sounded anything but reassuring, and it was only then that Matthew realized that his brother was crying just as his mother had been earlier that night; and he could feel his brother's tears dripping down over his already damp face._

_Matthew's was no longer wearing his wet pajamas, but was instead wrapped tightly in Alfred's bed sheets, and even tighter in Alfred's arms. "You're safe with me Matthew, and I s-swear" his brother's grip tightened even more, causing it to be hard to breath with his already sore chest. "I swear to GOD Mattie, no one is ever going to take you from me again."_

_xxxxxxxxxxxx_

The car ride home could only have been described as awkward… long and awkward.

Neither his brother nor his Uncle wanted to say what they had to say in the presence of the other, which left Matthew sitting quietly in the back seat while being crushed under the pressure of both of them.

Alfred sat next to him with his hand still clutched tightly around his own, but his brother was staring anywhere but at him, choosing instead to brood out the opposite window. His Uncle on the other hand was trying to pay attention the road, but kept sneaking worried glances back at Matthew, all the time forming and reforming words with his mouth that never made it to the surface.

Matthew briefly wondered if he could survive jumping from a car at this speed, but the thought was more whimsical than anything. In the end he knew he'd have to face both men, and he wasn't sure which one he feared the most at that moment.

His Uncle finally decided that something needed to be said, at least in the form of a distraction from the obvious elephant in the room so to speak. But his words did nothing to put Matthew at ease, they instead made him feel worse.

"I was thinking… if you boys were not too busy tomorrow on your day off, we could pay your mother a visit at the institute. It's been awhile, and the doctors think seeing you two would cheer her up."

Francis kept driving, but quickly glanced back in the rearview mirror for any kind of reaction.

Alfred flinched guiltily at the declaration, but nodded his head in agreement. "Sure Uncle, of course we'll go. Why not."

Matthew on the other hand had gone absolutely still, whereas he had only seconds ago been filled with worry and fear; he was now overflowing with anger and resentment.

Why not? Why not? How could Alfred even say such a thing?

"Mathieu?" Francis asked, hoping for some kind of response out of the quiet young man who'd not spoken a word since leaving the Ice Rink.

Matthew's mind floundered for an excuse, because he quiet simply had to find one. There was no way he was going to see that woman, not after everything she had done, not after that last time.

"I'm going to stay home and work on some projects." Matthew lied; his voice quiet as always, but also strangely firm as he choose to avoid both sets of eyes now peering at him.

His brother's hand tightened around his own, jerking it so that Matthew was looking up at him. "No you don't Matthew, we don't _have_ any projects."

Matthew shot his brother a hurt look of betrayal for calling him out. How could Alfred not be backing him up right now? He knew more than anyone else… why was he taking _her_ side?

By now Francis was pulling into their driveway, but when he parked the car, all he did was turn the engine off before rotating to face his two nephews.

"Mathieu… is this true? I know it is not easy to see your mother like this… for any of us. But you know she loves you and misses you."

"She doesn't love me." Matthew whispered; his whole body trembled slightly under what he felt was an attack from all sides. He felt trapped and wanted nothing more than to break his brother's hold so that he could run away.

His Uncle gasped slightly, but looked down at him with sympathetic, understanding eyes…. the very same eyes as his mother.

"Mathieu of course your mother loves you, she is just confused right now. But Mathieu… if she did not love you, why would she have saved you like she did?" Francis asked in what he thought was a reasonable tone of voice.

Matthew's head shot up as felt the bile rising in the back of his throat, even Alfred had the decency to look guilty and avert his eyes.

"S-save me… save me?" Matthew voice trembled now as much as his body did as he kept shaking his head in disbelief while Francis tried frantically to figure out what he had said to make this conversation turn out so badly. But all Matthew ended up saying was, "I'm not going Uncle…"

"But Mathieu…" his Uncle pleaded.

"NO!" Matthew suddenly and uncharacteristically yelled. "I'm not GOING! There is nothing you can say that would make me want to put myself through that again. She did not save me, she has NEVER saved me; she has never done a damn thing for me."

His frenzied stream of words was suddenly and surprisingly cut off by a calm voice to his right.

"But I have…" was Alfred soft reply.

Matthew stopped yelling at Francis to turn to the composed face of his twin. Alfred looked the complete opposite of his brother at that moment, cool and collected while Matthew looked positively broken both inside and out.

All anger from the earlier incident at the rink had been wiped off of Alfred's face, and in its place was a beseeching look of understanding, begging Matthew with both his words and his expression to reconsider visiting their mother so that Alfred didn't have to do it on his own.

Matthew knew full well that Alfred hated facing their mother without his brother at his side, but he couldn't do it, he just couldn't do it again.

Matthew could feel his eyes starting to water, and hated himself for losing his composure like this. And at that moment he hated Alfred for not trying to protect him from that woman like he used to. Words come unbidden to his lips.

"How can you still love her, Al?" The question was broken by the waver in his voice and the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks.

"She's my mom Mattie…" Alfred tried to look sympathetic, and his composed face did break and show the guilt he had for feeling that way. He lifted the hand that had been holding onto Matthew's for the last thirty minutes, so that he could wipe away some of his brother's tears and bring their foreheads together like he always did when he wanted to comfort his other half.

But this time Matthew didn't allow it, and the moment he felt his brother's warm brow, he pushed him back and opened the car door to jump out.

"Well she's not mine." Matthew said with finality. His jaw was clenched in an attempt not to break down again and before anyone could say another word, he slammed the car door and ran inside.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Francis was at a loss of what to do. If there had been a way to make this situation worse, he was surely bound to find it.

For years now Francis had struggled with the surprise task of raising two teenage boys while he himself had only been barely legal. Now only thirty-five, he was dealt with the task of not only trying to do good by his nephews, but deal with past demons he couldn't begin to understand even if he tried, and he was damn well trying.

If it were only Alfred, maybe things would have worked out fine, but Matthew…. Matthew was another story entirely.

Although he'd never said it, Francis knew that the shyer twin did everything in his power to keep his feelings and thoughts hidden from his uncle, going so far as to interact with complete strangers with more openness than he did with Francis.

In short, the Frenchman was sure that Matthew hated him.

It was obvious in the way he flinched whenever Francis offered affection, or how he would leave the room whenever it was just the two of them, preferring only to be in his presence whenever Alfred was around.

For the first few years that the twins had come to live with Francis in his then apartment, Matthew had refused to talk with him at all. Alfed had to either translate, or in many cases speak for the other boy in his place. And the tall blonde was fairly certain it wasn't just because Matthew was shy.

No… Matthew hated him.

But despite this, Francis loved his nephew, maybe even more for it. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the young man, and while he couldn't understand the pain that he knew Matthew was suffering from, it didn't stop him from wanting to take it away.

As he sat downstairs at the kitchen table, nursing yet another glass of cognac, Francis wondered for the millionth time if Matthew really did hate him, or was it just that Francis reminded him so much of his mother.

Francis and Marie had looked a lot alike in both mannerisms and features, and maybe that's all there was to it. But that bared another question, why was Matthew so scared of his mother?

From everything Francis had learned from Alfred and from the police, their mother had been as much a victim as the boys had been, most likely causing her mental breakdown all those years ago. But in the end she'd risen up and saved both boys in the only way she'd known how, she'd killed the man responsible for all their pain.

So why did Matthew hate her so much… and in turn, hate him?

Francis titled his head back in frustration, swallowing the rest of the smooth drink in one go. He contemplated another glass, but knew he'd have to face the boys eventually.

Matthew had not come downstairs after his outburst, and Alfred had of course followed him to Matthew's room.

In all the years he'd known Matthew; that was the first time he'd ever seen the boy lose his composure in front of the older man. Francis had had no doubt that Matthew had hidden these sorts of angry and confused feelings all along, but up until now he had only ever shared them with was Alfred.

That was the other thing that made Francis worried. The twin's dependence on each other was a constant thorn in his side. He'd done everything he could to give them their own clothes, rooms and identities. But since the day they'd arrived, both boys had done the same activities, signed up for the same classes, shared their clothes, and although they didn't know Francis was aware of it, snuck away each night to share the same bed.

"Ahhh… _Tabarnak_" Francis muttered as he carelessly dropped the glass into the sink. His two young nephews were almost adults now, but were in so many ways as helpless as school children thanks to their shared past, and nothing he did was helping them in anyway.

Taking a deep breath, Francis finally left the kitchen to brave the steps so as to face his young Nephew once and for all, and to try and bring up a whole _new_ subject for Matthew to hate him over, the incident at the rink.

Approaching the dreaded door, Francis knocked softly, hoping not to startle the young man inside, but when he walked into the room he was greeted with an altogether different sight than he was expecting, although he shouldn't have been surprised.

Matthew was already lying under the covers fast asleep, and beside him laid the every faithful Alfred, wide awake and as always, watching over his brother.

Alfred was still fully dressed in his clothes from earlier, shoes and all, and was lying on top of the covers alongside his twin. He had one hand draped over his brother, while the other arm served to prop him up so that he could lean over Matthew and gently stroke the soft golden waves that always fell over Matthew's face.

"Alfred?" Francis began to ask, but the hand that had previously been draped over his brother was held up to silence him.

"Shhh, you'll wake him up." Alfred whispered.

Nodding to himself, Francis remained quiet as asked. He was used to such scenes, but a part of him still felt uncomfortable whenever he witnessed them. He knew it was an innocent byproduct of their time trapped away together, but… it just seemed like something they should have outgrown by now.

Quietly, he motioned for Alfred to get up and follow him.

Reluctantly, the more outgoing twin moved to get up off the bed, but not before leaning over his brother and placing a gentle kiss on his temple while whispering something that Francis could not hear.

Alfred followed, closing the door behind them as they made their way down the stairs and into the living room.

Francis fervently wished he'd poured himself another glass now, because the conversation he'd intended to have with Matthew was now compounded with the fact he'd have to have it with Alfred instead.

Sitting down across from his young nephew, Francis tried desperately to form the words that had been lodged in his throat all afternoon, why was it so hard to speak all of a sudden.

In the end, it was Alfred who somehow managed to save the day.

"I know what you're going to ask Uncle, and there's no point in asking Matthew, he wouldn't tell you anyways." Alfred didn't say this to be malicious, he was simply stating a fact, and Francis knew it to be true.

"Is Mathieu in trouble? Is that other boy, is he…" Francis still couldn't say the words; he was so scared about what the answer might be. If Matthew was in anyway being bullied, or worse… Francis didn't know what he would do.

"No… it's nothing like that". There was obvious resentment in Alfred's voice now. "Mattie's just confused right now; he thinks… I don't know what he's thinking... that's the problem… I don't know how to stop this."

Francis startled, he wasn't sure if what he was hearing could be true or the trick of his mind. "He's confused? What do you mean… do you think that Mathieu might like… might prefer…"

Alfred scoffed out loud, his expression regretful "Men? Yeah... but that's not what he's confused about; he's pretty sure about that one. He's just… he's not making good decisions right now…. He keeps putting himself in a position to get hurt… and I don't know how to make him realize that I can't help him if I'm not there…" The once confident boy suddenly looked sad and more scared than Francis had ever seen him before as he leaned forward to place his head in his hands.

Francis tried to let the major bombshell go for the moment and deal with the more pressing matter of Matthew's safety. Gay or not, he couldn't have Matthew getting hurt again under any circumstances.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. Is this young man dangerous? Should I call the school?" But again he was interrupted, and the pure anguish in Alfred's voice was more than enough to make Francis pause for good.

"It's not him, Uncle, it's Mattie… he's slipping away… he just keeps slipping away, and I keep trying to hold on tighter, but I don't know how long I can hold on before Mattie… just lets go."

TBC…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Notes:

Ok so Alfred isn't looking too good here, I know, but please have faith. I do love Alfred, and in the long run I'm not going to hang him out to dry.

Poor Francis, I know he's floundering here, but he's not exactly kept abreast of things by these two, so a lot of things are news to him.

_Tabarnak_ – Probably _the_ most common swear word used in Quebec, yet you almost never hear Matthew use this when he's swearing in French in fanfics. It's so common that many English Canadians would recognize it, and usually use it when pretending to speak French Canadian. It means "Tabernacle" (most Quebec swearwords are related to Religion).

If you really wanted to show how upset you are while in Quebec … you could say this (FRENCH CANADIANS AVERT YOUR EYES!).

_Crisse de câlisse de tabarnak __d'__ostie __de __Saint-ciboire!_

This translates as a bunch of strung together swear words (all can be used individually), but would together would mean "I'm very, very angry right now, and will probably hurt you if you come near me" (or at least that's what I'd be thinking if I was saying it).

There are a few other words you could choose to use, but the secret is stringing them together in the order you feel expresses your anger J


	10. Chapter 10

"_Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, Ivan…" a young girl repeatedly called out in an effort to gain the attention of her older brother. Her voice echoing all the louder in the small high-rise apartment they currently lived in._

"_What!" Ivan snapped in annoyance, he hated to be disturbed when he was working on his school projects, and his younger sister Natalya tended to demand a lot of attention._

_But his anger was ill timed, and soon his little sister started to cry in distress over being yelled at._

_Ivan sighed angrily, knowing what would now happen._

_His older sister ran into the room smacking him upside the head as she made her way past him and comforted the little girl in her arms. "You are such a brute Vanya, how can you yell at sweet little Natalya like that?"_

_Trying to look unmoved, Ivan turned back to his homework and grumbled out loud "Well she should know to leave me alone when I'm working; I only have another day to get this report out."_

_His older sister shot him an unsympathetic look. "Well then maybe you shouldn't have gone out the bar again last night instead of taking your laziness out on everyone else."_

_Ivan flinched, he thought that that was just a bit uncalled for; after all, Natalya was being unnecessarily clingy as always. But there was some truth to what Katyusha was saying._

_Standing up from his chair, he stretched the kinks out of his back from the many hours of sitting down, and walked over to easily lift his little sister out of Katyusha's arms._

_He gave her a comforting hug before apologizing to appease both his sister. "I'm sorry for yelling. Will you ever forgive me?" he asked with an overly demure look; a small smile sneaking up on his face._

_Natalya pouted, and tried to still look offended as she shook her head no, and said that she'd never, ever forgive him._

_Ivan sighed with lament, and spoke to his older sister now as if a great tragedy had befallen. "Oh that is such a shame… however shall I finish my report knowing that my own flesh and blood has forsaken me?"_

_And with that he flipped Natalya high up into the air, forcing her to let out a squeal of delight._

_She began to laugh uncontrollably, and hugged her brother in forgiveness, but also so that he couldn't throw her in the air again. "Ok, ok I forgive you, please, please don't throw me again."_

_He raised both his brows at Katyusha with an evil look in his eyes, before flipping the small girl up again into the air. "You mean don't do this?" More squeals of laughter as his younger sister was dropped giggling onto Ivan's bed. She playfully batted his hands away as they tried to tickle her, before she jumped up with her arms around Ivan's neck giving him great big hug. _

"_See, I forgive you Ivan, you are mean sometimes, but you can still marry me when we are older."_

_His older sister let out a bark of laughter at Ivan's look of horror, before pulling her little sister away onto her own lap._

"_Oh my dear Natalya, that would be difficult for MORE than one reason. Isn't that right Ivanushka?" She gave him an arrogant smirk, knowing full well what kind of bar he'd been to the night before._

_Ivan didn't find it quite so funny, and growled in annoyance at Katya's teasing in front of his little sister. He then firmly ordered his sisters out of his room so that he could finish up his report in peace._

_More amused by his ire than scared, they obeyed none the less; and left him to his solitude, Katyusha laughing quietly as she shepherded the younger sibling out of the room._

_Because if she could not put a smile on her serious brother's face, who would?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The once warm September air had all too quickly cooled down into a brisk October autumn. While it was hard to believe, no sooner had the leaves begun to turn than an early morning chill had appeared, signaling a hint of the oncoming winter.

Inhaling slowly and deeply, before exhaling on the count of three, Ivan stood before the same line of trees he'd sat under only a month before. While the ever encompassing melancholy he'd felt back then wasn't so all consuming anymore, it seemed as if everything and nothing had changed at the same time.

Ivan still had his nightmares, both at sleep and while awake, he still had guilt that ate him alive from the inside out, and every day he still found it a challenge to face the man that he'd stolen a family from.

But… at the same time, there was a brief glimmer of hope that had not been there before.

Of redemption? Probably not, but maybe as a way to carry him out of the darkness he'd fallen into.

Sitting on the same bench he'd been laying down on not so long ago, now sat Matthew Jones. The morning rays did nothing to warm him as he bundled himself up tighter in the sweater he was currently wearing, clearly ill prepared for the temperature drop that had appeared so quickly

The young man seemed to be reading a book, but it was obvious in the way his eyes kept jumping around that he was waiting for someone to appear, most likely his brother.

Ivan considered walking away, to cut his losses while he could, but the way his heart warmed up whenever the other man was near was enough to push him into unsolicited action before he'd even realized he'd taken a step forward.

As he neared the Canadian, Ivan slowly and carefully unraveled his long scarf, lamenting the loss of its warmth, both in fabric and in memories, before surprising both men and tossing it around Matthew's neck, as he sat down beside the smaller hockey player.

Matthew did not seem startled that Ivan had appeared suddenly in front of him, probably having spied him a good distance away, but he was still actively avoiding his gaze none the less, as he gently fondled the scarf in curiosity.

Ivan let himself quirk a small smile as he saw the blonde slowly wrap the warm scarf tighter around his own neck, and instinctively breathe in Ivan's scent without meaning to. The blush that sprung to Matthew's pale cheeks was more than to make up for the chill Ivan could now feel around his own neck.

For a while neither boy spoke as they both stared out at the trees surrounding them, and Ivan was pleased that there was no tension surrounding the innocent action, just a peaceful comfort that he hoped they both might be experiencing from the other's company.

The overshadowing feeling of sadness that he usually carried around with him always calmed itself somewhat whenever Matthew was near, and Ivan looked down at other young man and wondered if he was only imagining that same feelings being reflected back in the other's sad eyes.

Matthew took a few deep breaths himself before turning around to face Ivan as well, his hands moving up to touch the area on Ivan's upper arm where he'd been cut only the week before.

Ivan flinched as the gentle hands touched the exact spot where he was still healing, and Matthew jerked back his own hand as if he had been the one who was hurt. "I'm s-sorry… is it still very sore then?"

Ivan nodded, immediately regretting the loss of Matthew's touch, but not foolish enough to force it again.

He wanted to apologize for happened in the medical room; he wanted to ask if Matthew had been alright after he went home, and he really wanted to ask just what it was that darkened his violet eyes so deeply that it looked as if Ivan's own pain paled in comparison.

But it was Matthew who instead asked the questions.

"You're not just homesick… are you Ivan… I mean... that's not the only reason why you keep to yourself so much...is it?" Matthew's hands had returned to his lap, and Ivan couldn't help but watch as the fingers tapped his leg unconsciously in some nervous habit.

Ivan shook his head to say no, he wasn't just homesick; but he wasn't able to speak those thoughts out loud at that moment, even though he knew the words.

Matthew was pleased with this answer either way, and for the first time that since Ivan had ever known him, the seemingly shy blonde smiled contemplatively up at the larger man. "So maybe, you're just a little bit… broken, broken like me…"

Ivan swallowed, unsure how to answer such a statement. He turned away, unable to meet the expectant eyes in front of him.

There was no doubt that he was a little bit broken, but hearing Matthew say those words to him suddenly brought back a lot of the guilt from before. What right did he have to impose his past on this young man who already appeared to be suffering so much? How could Ivan be anything but yet another issue for Matthew to deal with, someone to try and 'save' when it was Matthew who so badly needed to be saved himself!

The thought was sobering, and enough to bring Ivan back to the reality of the situation in an almost painful way. He'd been selfish in his feelings, just like he had been the last time, and the ones who'd pay the price in the long run would not be him, but Matthew and his Grandfather.

Standing up, Ivan spoke quietly to the young man behind him, wishing his heart didn't hurt so much while he did so. "Maybe I am… too much so."

He started to walk away, his steps making crisp crunching noises as they carved a path through the fallen leaves.

Whether or not Matthew had tried to stop him, it wouldn't have made a difference, but he knew the spirited hockey player wouldn't come after him.

After all, some people just weren't worth saving.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ivan chose not to go to class that morning, and instead made his way over to the rink. There was something about its familiarity to his home that called out to him, made him seek refuge in there from the dullness that he now felt inside.

Nearing the entrance, he was taken aback when the main door opened by itself, revealing Matthew's wayward brother.

Alfred appeared equally surprised to see Ivan, his eyes going wide behind the thin glasses before settling in a familiar scowl.

"Hey _Comrade_, what a coincidence, I was _JUST_ thinking about you." Alfred greeted him jovially, at least in appearance.

In light of his earlier conversation with Matthew, Ivan didn't particularly feel like playing this game at that moment, and tried to push past the young man to escape the exchange entirely.

"I could not say same", he replied with a scowl of his own as he tried to walk on by.

Alfred quickly stepped in his way, momentarily blocking his path, his shoulder forcefully standing in the way of Ivan's departure. He then leaned his head over just enough so that he could whisper loudly into Ivan's ear.

"I know _exactly_ what you've been thinking of _'friend'_, and I think it's time you got yourself a new hobby."

Ivan leaned back just a little, not in intimidation, but in curiosity that Alfred would be so forward with him. The Russian was clearly the stronger man here, and for the most part had a 'reputation', deserved or not, just by coming from where he did.

Was Alfred seriously threatening him… and on school grounds?

But the look the shorter man was now giving him was more than enough to tell Ivan that he was serious. A gust of wind whipped the blond hair in front of Alfred's eyes, making them appear all the more menacing for it.

"I'll be blunt here, I've got nothing against you as a person, and in fact I think you're a pretty good hockey player, but I know you only joined the team to get closer to Mattie. And right now, you _really_ don't understand the situation with my brother. You are the absolute last thing he needs in his life."

While Ivan agreed whole heartedly to that last statement, the entire situation was quickly beginning to remind him of another one from not that long ago in his life, and an uncalled for anger began to brew deep inside his chest. Ivan took the time to slowly lean forward, forcing the smaller man to unwillingly take a step back.

"It not 'vise to make threat" Ivan ground out in his broken English, rolling his 'r' in almost a growl.

But Alfred stood his ground. "I'm _not_ making threats; I'm _telling_ you for the last time to stay away from my brother."

Ivan shook his head in disbelief, this could not seriously be happening again. What cruel God could possibly exist to be playing this kind of joke on him? Feeling his pulse rise in agitation, and knowing he was close to his breaking point, the Russian clenched his jaw shut so that he wouldn't reply, and forcibly slammed his shoulder into the Alfred's as he stormed by him into the rink.

His head was dizzy from the emotions and memories that were swirling around inside; and Ivan tried his hardest to ignore them as well as the last retort from the blonde aggressor outside.

"I'm not kidding Ivan, stay away from him, this is your last warning." The voice faded as Ivan pushed on into the rink; his lip snarling as he grabbed a folder lying innocently on a table and threw it against the wall.

He was trying hard to manage the temper he knew he was brewing, and with all the control he could muster he stormed his way into the locker area.

He'd left his hockey kit in the secure room earlier that morning so that he didn't have to lug it around the campus, but when he opened the door his eyes were immediately drawn to an almost impossible sight before him.

All his gear had been ripped out of his bag and thrown about; his stick had been broken into pieces, his pads cut apart; and his skates…. Oh god… his father's skates… he couldn't even say it.

The anger that he'd been trying so hard to contain finally spilled forth and he let out scream he'd not used since that one day back in Russia.

XXXXXXX

Tired of waiting for his brother and a bit sore from his encounter with Ivan only moments before, Matthew started walking around the campus in search of his twin. He had no idea where he'd gotten to that morning, only that his brother had bought him a coffee and told him to stay put while he went and did some quick administration.

While it was unusual for his brother to actually ask him to stay behind, he didn't mind the rare solitude it had offered him. The morning had been peaceful if not a bit chilly and a good chance to reflect… on many things.

Despite his apprehension, he'd felt a thrill rise inside him at the sight of the Russian student standing over by the trees, staring at him from a distance. He looked incredibly foreboding with his long trench coat, flowing scarf and cool pale eyes that were always calculating… like they were desperately trying to understand the world around him.

He'd shivered involuntarily as Ivan had neared, and he'd felt a part of him soften a bit when the other man had placed his long warm scarf around his neck. Matthew wasn't sure he'd ever felt anything as comforting as that wool against his chin; the scarf covered in a familiar intoxicating fragrance.

Whether or not the other man had realized it, Matthew had needed that interaction to ground him; it was like a breath of fresh air after the long stifling weekend spent with his worried uncle, his emotional brother and thoughts of his horrible mother. He loved his family… but sometimes… just sometimes he wondered if he'd ever escape them.

Staring up at those lonely eyes, Matthew felt a kinship he knew he probably shouldn't. He knew absolutely nothing about this man; and yet… yet it was like Ivan _knew _him.

But then when he'd tried to broach that painful subject, the one he never spoke about with anyone, it was like a wall had shot up between them, and Ivan had just walked away.

It scared Matthew, because for the first time it was Matthew who had been left behind, not the other way around. And it was only then that he really felt the chill of the October air as it pierced him to the bone.

Pulling the long scarf around him tighter, Matthew finally caught sight of his brother just outside of the rink, he could see him yelling something at a closing door, but there was no one else there.

Running up to his twin, Matthew worriedly asked if he was alright. "Al… is everything ok… you look… upset."

His brother's face was flushed in anger, and his normal composure was cracked as he continued to glare at the doorway before turning to face Matthew.

"Its fine Mattie… everything's fine now, you don't have to…" his brother's voice trailed off as he eyed the scarf that was currently wrapped around his neck. His eyes squinted in confusion and disbelief… and hurt. "Mattie… what is this." He asked hesitantly, fear obvious in his voice.

Matthew looked away, holding on to the scarf tighter, afraid to answer, but also knowing there was no need for him to speak.

"Why are you doing this Mattie… you don't need him… you don't need anyone but me…" Alfred's voice was weak with injury as he tugged lightly at the scarf, as if that slight pressure alone would be enough to rip it off his brother's throat, and when it didn't budge, he turned to glare dangerously back at the rink.

Realization started to dawn on Matthew as he followed his brother's gaze. "Al… just who were you talking to before I arrived?"

His brother's demeanor changed instantly once again as he grabbed Matthew's hand and began to pull him away. "No one! Come on we're going to be late for class."

But Matthew refused to budge, and just as he was about to ask his brother to stop lying to him, both boys heard an ungodly scream coming from inside the rink. Matthew shot his brother a questioning look, but Alfred simply shook his head slowly, begging his brother not to do anything.

"Mattie… just let it go, come on… please… just come away with me…" he pulled harder on his brother's hand as he griped even tighter, trying to plead and force at the same time.

And just like that, it was like something broke deep down inside him, and Matthew swung out with his right hand, hitting his brother hard in the right side of his face; effectively knocking his glasses clean off.

Alfred stumbled back as if far more injured than he was, letting go of Matthew's hand to touch the already bruising spot on his face; shock and disbelief preventing him from even moving.

"Mattie… no…" And before Alfred could say another word, Matthew turned around and left him standing there alone, and for the first time in his life he chose someone else over his brother.

There was no time to really grasp what he'd just done, to understand his actions on any kind of emotional level, because when he finally did find Ivan, he almost regretted his actions immediately.

The large Russian man was almost terrifying in his rage as he picked up his broken hockey equipment and threw them around the room in his fury.

He took hold of a piece of his once intact hockey stick and he started to smash it against one of the lockers, screaming out in anguish the entire time as the stick splintered from the abuse.

Matthew couldn't understand a word that was being spoken, it was all cried out in a frenzy of strange Russian curses that were as foreign to his ears as their meaning was not.

With his own hands shaking from fear, Matthew slowly entered the room and approached the angry man, unsure even then what his actions were going to be.

It wasn't long before Ivan spotted him and turned on him so suddenly that Matthew actually backtracked all the way to the door. The larger man's silvery hair flew back and forth over his eyes as Ivan yelled even more forcefully, every ounce of his anger now directed towards Matthew.

Ivan picked up one of his well used skates off the ground, now utterly destroyed beyond repair, and flung it dangerously close to Matthew's head, in much the same way Matthew had done to Ivan with the puck when they'd first met, although unlike Ivan, Matthew made no attempt to stop it.

It bounced off the wall, falling to his feet, and Ivan continued to scream in his native tongue, pointing at the skates as if that should mean something to Matthew, even thought they both knew it didn't.

And while watching the terrifying display, through all the rage and frustration and pure agony, Matthew finally saw what Ivan was really trying to say as he spotted the barely formed tears threatening to fall down Ivan's red, heated cheeks.

The other man wasn't upset because his stuff had been destroyed, he was suffering for an altogether different reason, and suffering was something Matthew knew all too well.

Watching this stoic, previously unmovable man before him break down, Matthew found the courage to step away from the wall and approach the large man a second time.

This time his hands didn't tremble, his steps didn't falter, and he didn't flinch as cruel Russian words were flung his way.

He simply walked up to the man who was no more than a stranger to him, and gently grasped the front of his shirt, moving well into his personal space. The action caused Ivan to startle and he immediately stopped yelling, instead peering down at the Canadian in absolute confusion, and yes, a bit of fear.

Matthew watched as the larger man breathed heavily from his exertions, his moist eyes still barely containing the pain and sorrow they hid inside; his whole body poised to run away like a cornered animal.

And then with the greatest of care, Matthew gently pulled the unresisting man forward by his shirt front, until they were almost nose to nose, his left hand carefully rising up so as to brush aside the wild hair and to fully reveal the tormented eyes in all their painful glory.

In painstakingly slow movements, Matthew leaned just that much closer and said in barely a whisper. "It's ok Ivan… I'm here now." And without another warning, he stood up onto his toes, allowing him to just reach high enough so that his lips could brush against the angry swollen ones above him, and he oh so carefully pressed them both together.

Ivan didn't respond immediately, his own turbulent emotions trying to catch up with what was happening, and when they did, Matthew watched as the large man gave out before him, dropping to his knees in exhaustion. As he fell down to the ground, he grabbed onto Matthew's sleeves to keep himself steady.

The angry words had all but stopped, and were soon replaced with what Matthew knew Ivan had really wanted to do all along, the other man started to cry.

This was no shameful momentary loss of emotion, this was a cry of man who had long kept his tender emotions locked deep down inside for far too long, again something that Matthew was very familiar with.

The blonde boy gently kneeled down and wrapped his smaller arms around him as best he could, simultaneously stroking soothingly along his back and running his hands through Ivan's silvery hair in comfort while he whispered words he'd heard used so many times before, but had never used himself.

He leaned his forehead against the other man's, and sweetly kissed away those salty tears, a part of him ashamed to admit how good it made him feel to hold this wrecked man before him in comfort, to try and offer him what relief he could as he soothed away his pain.

And so lost was Matthew in his ministrations, that he barely noticed when a pair of strong yet shaking arms wrapped themselves securely around his body in turn; offering their own form of comfort while at the same time giving Ivan something that he so desperately needed to hang on to.

TBC…

Author's Notes:

Phew… ok finally got some of the meat out there. That was planned out a long time ago.

Sheesh, and we haven't even gotten to why the guys are so messed up… oi… more angst to come.

Pre chapter warning. If you are squeamish, might want to skip the next prologue…

Ivan's story was supposed to be told in this chapter, but it didn't make sense for the truth to be out yet, so I'm afraid you have to wait.

Um... be gentle….


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Warning of violence and language in the prologue.

xxxxxxx

_The old elevator doors slowly opened to reveal the familiar long hallway on Ivan's apartment floor. The outdated carpentry looked as ragged as usual, and the flickering florescent lights above his head did nothing to alleviate the migraine he knew was forming from his long day in class. _

_Strangely, all thoughts of his reports dissipated from his mind as he stepped onto the floor; an eerie feeling building itself in his stomach the more he approached his apartment door that had his number clearly labeled over it._

_It wasn't that there was anything out of the ordinary per say, just something in the air, a stillness that he'd never really noticed before._

_Feeling like he needed a good night's rest more than ever now, Ivan quickly inserted the keys into the deadbolt, and pushed the door open, calling out to anyone that might be home at this time of day._

_As he flung his jacket carelessly onto the coat hook, and did likewise with his scarf and keys, Ivan heard his father call out from their small living room around the corner; his voice strangely subdued and with a note of irritation that the large student only rarely heard. _

_Although when he did it her it, was almost always directed at himself. _

"_Ivan, could you please come in here for a moment." His father asked._

_Not bothering to take off his shoes, Ivan turned into the living room to answer his father, but faltered in his steps at the entryway._

_His father was sitting in his favourite chair as always, the one that faced the large couch. But standing behind him there was a strange man that Ivan had never seen before. A quick look around the room revealed that his father appeared to be entertaining several other guests as well._

_Nothing about the ambiance in the room indicated that this was a sociable meeting in any way. _

_There were six unfriendly looking types either standing or sitting around the room, dressed in all different casual sorts of attire. Most of the men looked incredibly bored to be there, one even peeking at his watch, as if he were annoyed it had taken this long already. _

_But there was one man in the middle of the couch grinning with absolute pleasure upon seeing Ivan enter the room._

"_Ivan Braginski, I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you face to face. I have heard so… so much about you." The tall skinny man stood up amiably, holding out his right hand as he walked over to greet him properly. None of the other men moved from their spot; including his father._

"_You father has been telling me all about your exploits in university, your family must be very proud… but look at me being all rude and not even introducing myself. My name is Anatoly Belov, and I believe... you are already well acquainted with my brother?"_

_The feeling of 'wrong' that that engulfed Ivan from the moment he'd entered the apartment was instantly magnified when he heard that name… Belov… this was exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid getting mixed up in…. exactly the sort of thing he'd most feared when he'd learned the truth about Sasha last week…_

_The jovial man didn't give Ivan a chance to properly answer as he continued to pace around the room, walking around the couch, and forcing every one present to strain their heads in order to follow him. _

"_You're father and I have just been having the most interesting discussion about the importance of family you know. How it doesn't matter what a disappointment they may grow up to be, or what a thorn in your side they actually are, because in the end, HEY… they're family." Anatoly held his arms up at this comment, and leaned back in an exaggerated shrug._

_Ivan looked up over at his father, trying to gleam if he knew what was really going on, and judging by the angry shake of his head, and the amount of irritation rolling off of him, Ivan gathered that he was well aware of the situation._

_Anatoly started walking around the room again, not stopping until he was standing beside his father's side, carelessly picking up a photo of his mother that had been sitting innocently on the lamp stand; and examining it with minute detail._

"_So I think Mr Braginsky," he stopped to look at both men, "BOTH Mr Braginskys, that you'll understand where I'm coming from when I say that I really… really… really don't appreciate my family being fucked with." _

_Anatoly then gently returned the picture to its rightful place with the utmost care, and smiled charmingly one last time over at Ivan and then back at his father._

_That was the only warning they got before Anatoly grabbed his father's hand, and quicker than the eye could follow, took a knife from his pocket, and stabbed his palm into the table._

_His father screamed out in pain, and Ivan instantly rushed forward to help him; but he was himself was held back by two of the burlier men who quickly moved him off to the side of the room, well away from his father._

_Anatoly shook his head in disappointment as he watched the older Braginsky fail over and over in his attempts to free his stationary hand. The man who had been standing behind his father leaned forward to secure his shoulder, insuring that that he didn't leave his chair in his attempts to free himself of the knife._

_Ivan struggled with all his might against the two men, yelling angrily for them to let him go. But all they did instead was hold him tighter while one of them punched hard in the gut, and the other tripped him into a kneeling position on the ground so that they could each put pressure on a leg, while holding still holding his torso upright._

_Anatoly curled his lip up in disgust as he walked across the room to join Ivan, grabbing his pale hair in a cruel grip and painfully forcing his head back so that they were looking eye to eye. _

"_What the hell gives YOU the right to think you can even touch my brother…" Anatoly began._

"_I never touched him… I swear." Ivan cried out in defense, but the snarling man above him slammed his fist into the side of Ivan's face for the effort, hitting him so hard that Ivan's vision actually blurred for a second, and he soon felt blood dripping from a cut in his cheek._

_Anatoly motioned for the men to gag Ivan as he let the young man's head fall back and he himself returned to Ivan's father. _

"_Quiet him! This is going to take a bit, and I really don't feel like listening to his pathetic excuses the whole time."_

_A third man appeared beside Ivan, and pulled out a long piece of duct tape. He jammed a rolled up sock into Ivan's open mouth, and then secured it by wrapping the tape tightly around Ivan's head several times, nearly cutting off his breathing entirely as it just barely missed his nose._

_The same courtesy was not shown to Ivan's father, who had by now stopped worrying about the knife embedded in his hand in his concern for his son's wellbeing. _

"_W-what are you going to do to him, I'm begging you, please he's just a kid! Don't kill my only son, please…" but his ranting was cut off when Anatoly took a second knife and thrust it into his right leg causing the man to stop talking and return to his cries of pain. _

_Laughing as if he'd just heard the greatest joke on earth, and looking back at his men to see if they were just as amused; he turned to face Ivan still struggling on the ground. _

"_Kill your son? Now why would I do a stupid thing like that? That little bastard hurt my baby brother, and you know what? I don't even care if all the things Sasha said turned out to be a lie, because just the thought of this disgusting… piece… of shit… fag laying a single hand on my little brother is more than enough to make me want to burn this whole fucking building down."_

_Anatoly grabbed hold of his father's right hand that had just successfully managed to pull the blade out of his leg, and snapped his wrist so far back that when he released the appendage, all of his father's fingers went completely slack._

"_And when someone hurts somebody I love…" another break, this time to the forearm. "I, in turn, hurt somebody that they love." _

_Anatoly then picked up the fallen knife off the ground, wiping the blade on his victim's once clean white shirt, before examining the blade to ensure its cleanliness. _

"_Message gets across far more effective this way, I think… Wouldn't you agree Mr Braginsky?"_

_By now Ivan was using every last ounce of strength he had to pull himself free, screaming at the top of his lungs into the duct tape, his wild hair flailing as he thrust forward in order to somehow get just an inch closer to his father, who's own screams, Anatoly didn't quite feel the need to quiet like Ivan's._

_Ivan's mind was desperately trying to think of a way out of this; confused beyond all belief that such a small interaction with the brother of a dangerous man could have had such large repercussions. _

_Had Sasha really been that hurt that Ivan didn't want to play around with him? So much so that he'd ask for such a horrible retaliation?_

_The room went deathly quiet when the sound of another pair of keys going into the deadlock and the loud bustle of more people entering the small apartment was heard; and just like that, the situation went from bad, to the stuff of nightmares._

_Ivan shouted out in warning through the thick tape over his mouth, and earned another painful hit to the back of his head for his actions. His father managed a bit better and yelled out in desperation. _

"_Katyusha, turn back around right now and get the hell out of here…" Anatoly backhanded him as well as he motioned to two more of his men to fetch the new comers. They rushed into the hallway and soon returned with both of Ivan's surprised sisters in their grasp._

_Katyusha looked stunned, unable to grasp the situation at first, but young Natalya only had to take one look at the blood leaking from her father's hand to start balling uncontrollably in worry and fear._

_Anatoly actually groaned out loud, covering his ears in an embellished act of agony. "Oh Shut her up, shut her up already. I can't stand that high pitched squeal."_

_The man standing behind his father, who had so far barely moved except to restrain his seated prisoner, reached into the right side of his coat, and with barely a look their way, took out a concealed weapon and a single horrifying shot rang out through the room._

_All motion stopped and not another sound was heard as Ivan and the rest of his family watched his youngest sister suddenly go quiet, and fall limply to the ground, a distinctive red blotch forming on her brow as she fell down like a broken rag doll._

_Ivan couldn't move; he could barely even breathe as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed._

_It didn't make sense; it wasn't possible… because… because any second now, Natayla was going to get up, she was going to start crying again, she was going to beg for them to let her daddy go… she was… _

_She was dead._

_Against all odds it was Katyusha who recovered the quickest, escaping the loose handhold on her arm and jumping across the room to fling herself at the man who'd so carelessly and without a second thought gunned down her baby sister._

_She didn't get far before Anatoly grabbed her from behind, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, and turning her around to face Ivan instead._

_She screamed, and cried while tears poured from her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably for her sister. "Natalya…. Natalya….Nata…ly…a…" _

_Anatoly gently rocked her back and forth, softly whispering words of condolence, as she went limp in his arms in grief. He tenderly moved his right hand up to lift her chin to face the still shell shocked Ivan kneeling before her._

"_Shhh, don't worry yourself my dear. Someone as pretty and kind hearted as you shouldn't have to suffer for long in this cruel world." He leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on her tear stained cheek, before turning to smile down at his captive._

_And Ivan saw the action in his mind before it even happened, and he knew exactly what was he was about to witness, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. _

_As the loud scream of denial ripped through his throat, only to be muffled once again by his ever present gag, he watched as Anatoly tilted his sister's head back ever so slightly and raised his left hand that still possessed the blade he'd cleaned not moments before, and proceeded to slice it deep across his sister's pristine pale neck._

_Katyusha barely registered what had happened; the only indication she knew anything at all was her eyes opening wide and how she suddenly found it hard to breath. She stumbled forward chocking, and Ivan watched in horror as blood began to spill forth from the wound in her neck along with little tiny bubbles of much needed air._

_She swallowed futilely one last time, staring directly at Ivan's helpless form, her watery eyes pleading for some kind of aid before they rolled far back into her head, and she sagged powerlessly back against the beaming man behind her. _

_Anatoly gently laid her onto the ground, and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, involuntarily leaving streaks of blood on her increasingly pale features._

_Ivan yelled and cried and clenched his eyes so tightly it hurt while he tried to lunge forward with every last breath he had; even though he knew it didn't matter anymore… she was dead… just like Natalya… just like his father would be soon be… and there wasn't a thing he could do about it._

_Anatoly walked back over to where Ivan was being held immobile, and he kneeled down to pat him sharly on the cheek, "Well… now that we have that interruption out of the way, let's say we get back to your lesson… shall we?"_

_And while Ivan sobbed pitifully before him, his voice slowly starting to go hoarse from his constant unheard pleas to let his father go and just kill him instead, in the end it did nothing stop the inevitable._

_He watched as Anatoly slowly stood up again, and made his way once again back to his grief stricken father, and all Ivan could do was scream. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Matthew wasn't sure how long they held each other, but both young men had long since stopped speaking any words, and instead, they simply laid in each other arms' as they listened to the sound of each other's breathing.

The blonde Canadian currently had his ear pressed tightly against Ivan's chest, and he enjoyed hearing the gentle beating of his heart, even when at times he knew the pattern turned erratic and seemingly without rhythm.

In more ways than one he would have been happy to stay that way for much longer, garnering some kind of strength in the power he had over the larger man; and serenity from the calmness he felt around him.

But it was Ivan who for the second time that day, pulled away.

Matthew could see that the Russian's eyes were rimmed bright red and were sore from his earlier outpouring of emotion. But his features looked relatively composed despite this, and much of the turbulence he'd seen in them before had long since seeped away.

Without a word, Ivan slowly untangled himself from Matthew's hold, and pulled himself off the ground and onto the nearby bench to sit down and maybe to regroup his thoughts.

Matthew instantly felt the chill of the cool rink air where Ivan's body had been only seconds before pressed against his own, and he quickly followed suit and placed himself on the bench alongside his quiet companion for warmth.

The silence in the room continued for some time with Ivan only staring blankly at the ground.

Matthew eventually decided that someone needed to move forward, and to his surprise, it was he that took the first steps in that direction. It was an odd position for him to e in, he was used to hiding or following behind his brother, not taking charge of a situation and having someone trust where he led, but Ivan made him want to try.

"It still hurts… doesn't it?" Matthew asked softly, barely turning to see Ivan nod his head in agreement.

And then silence again.

Matthew wanted to say something else, but wasn't quite sure what else could be said. He looked forlornly at the same spot on the floor that had seemingly caught Ivan's attention. Whatever it was that was eating away at Ivan, it was not something he was going to be able to fix in one day, but he had hoped… he had wanted so badly to ease some of that pain away.

Matthew flinched slightly when he felt a large hand gently lift his own smaller one off of the bench, successfully pulling him away from his depressing train of thought.

His heart fluttered despite itself as he watched the Russian student bring Matthew's hand close to his face, and carefully bring his lips forward so as to tenderly kiss the fingers in his grasp.

"You make pain feel… not so bad." Ivan quietly drawled out before kissing the hand again with care, and slowly intertwining their fingers.

Matthew couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as those beautiful words made his insides twist in contentment. His squeezed Ivan's hand back in appreciation, before taking a deep breath and standing up before the other man.

"Come on Ivan, I want to take you away from here."

Ivan didn't protest, and blindly let Matthew lead him out of the rink without question. Matthew was vigilant in keeping their hands clasped as they exited through the back entrance of the rink, but not in a demanding way, only as a gentle pressure to offer some sort of guidance, and maybe as a way to ground both of them.

Matthew led them all the way to the back of the campus until they'd reached one of the secondary food courts; Ivan finally cracking the barest hint of smile as he realized where Matthew had brought them; the Ice Cream store.

Reluctantly letting go of the warm hand, Matthew walked up to the counter to order himself a scoop of Canadian Mint; and then pausing in his order to turn around see what flavour Ivan wanted.

Ivan didn't even look over at the selection before answering "Blue."

Both Matthew and the store clerk looked down at the selection in confusion, there was no "blue" flavor, and the blonde briefly wondered if it was a mistranslation. But Ivan calmly walked forward and looked down into the barrels, and pointed to a flavour that had bright purple, blue and pink Ice Cream all swirled together and repeated "Blue Ice."

More than willing to let Ivan have is way in this, Matthew paid for both of the cones and handed the "Blue" one to Ivan as they began to walk back down the path along the campus.

Turning to watch the Russian as he took a bite, Matthew was not surprised to see him grimace in disgust at the overly sweet "Cotton Candy" flavoured Ice Cream, but his dislike of the flavour only seemed to make him smile more openly.

"You don't have to finish it… if you don't like it… I…I won't be offended." Matthew said timidly, offering his own cone in its place. But Ivan shook his head, delighting in the colours of his Ice Cream, if not the taste.

Having finished his treat quickly, the Russian man sighed nostalgically, and for once it wasn't with pain at a memory.

"In _Old_ Russia" Ivan began "Ice have no good colour… BUTin _New_ Russia, Ice is Blue and Pink and Yellow… and…" he stopped talking when he noticed Matthew laughing at his innocent joy in the many variety of colours of Ice Cream that there could be.

"And green?" Matthew asked, as he once again presented his own cone, but Ivan ignored the extended offering and instead raised his thumb to gently wipe away some of the green ice cream still lingering in the corner of Matthew's mouth.

He slowly brought the digit back over to himself and inserted the tip of his thumb between his lips, letting it remain there for a moment before nodding his head in approval while still looking at Matthew.

"Da, and green…"

It was almost ridiculous how much the Russian managed to continually throw Matthew off balance, and this time was no exception. The blonde pulled back his forgotten cold treat, and blushing, looked back towards the path.

For having been so forward himself not that long ago, he found himself suddenly bashful whenever Ivan made any move to further encourage his actions.

As he started to lead Ivan further away from the store, Matthew wondered to himself just how far he was going to take this, if in the end he was just leading Ivan on?

Eventually he was going to have to go home, make up with Alfred, and maybe finally sit down with his Uncle… but for now… for right now he could just stay here with this strange young man who wanted nothing more than to enjoy Matthew's company in peace, who had never once asked for any kind explanation for his actions, and who seemed to roll with the punches again and again and again…

With that thought in his mind, Matthew awkwardly reached down between them, and hesitantly took Ivan's larger hand in his own, his cheeks flushing even more as he motioned for the Russian to follow him down another path to one of the outdoor basketball courts.

Ivan didn't hesitate to do as he was told, knowing there was no chance of either boy attending class that day, and maybe happy for the pleasant distraction that Matthew always provided him.

By the time they reached their destination, Matthew had managed to finish his own Ice Cream cone and was walking towards a large outdoor shed. He then proceeded to open the lock without hesitation, clearly already knowing the combination well.

Inside were a whole array of, what else, but… hockey equipment.

But not the same kind used on ice, this was for street hockey, and all that was needed here were plastic hockey sticks and a round rubber ball.

Matthew felt his face heat up when he looked back over at Ivan and he saw that the Russian's smile increased as he caught sight of the equipment, immediately catching on to Matthew's plan.

Ivan reached inside to grab one of the taller sticks and a ball, and didn't even bother to wait for Matthew to catch up as he threw his long overcoat onto a bench and walked out onto the court, all the while bouncing the ball skillfully on his blade in open challenge to the Canadian.

Matthew wasn't far behind after taking off his sweater and glasses, and laying them next to Ivan's coat. He then walked right up to the center court with his stick tapping the asphalt beneath his feet repeatedly in a sign that he was ready for the "puck" drop.

Neither of them moved a muscle as Ivan dropped the ball between them in such a way so as it did not roll too far, and then he took up his position opposite his opponent; sizing him up the entire time.

No words were spoken to signal the start of the game, both boys instinctively knowing when to begin, and as soon as they did, all bets were off.

The game was played without mercy, neither taking pity on the other, even in light of the earlier events.

As always, this was hockey… and that meant war.

Matthew could feel himself soar as he played against one of the more skilled competitors he'd ever met in his life, and while his temper was quick to rise whenever he lost control of the ball, he enjoyed the way Ivan continually pushed his game, constantly forcing him think twelve steps ahead.

He could also tell that the Russian enjoyed the game as much as he did; his full concentration was spent on watching the way Matthew moved around the court, as graceful on the land with his footwork as he was on the ice, and twice as sneaky.

The 'score' was long forgotten as just the thrill of constantly trying to one up each other took precedence in the game, until they'd long used up their energy reserves in trying to be the last man standing.

It was Ivan who finally gave up first, probably still exhausted from earlier, and he surprised Matthew greatly when he let him score with little trouble.

In the end it had proven to be a diversion tactic, for the next thing Ivan did was to spin around and grab a hold of the Canadian from behind, dropping his stick to the ground at the same time. Ivan let out a rare laugh when he heard the smaller man give an undignified squeal in response.

And while Matthew knew that Ivan was only playing around; he also knew this might be the only way they'd end the game without either one of them having to admit defeat.

But… when Ivan didn't move to let him go, and instead only slowed his movement until they were standing still, Matthew couldn't help but lean back into the strong arms as he felt all the tension from the earlier game slip away even while his pulse continued to rise.

All pretenses forgotten, Matthew let himself enjoy both the feeling of warmth from Ivan's embrace, as well as the sound of the larger man struggling to catch his breath from the hard work out.

Matthew dropped his own stick to the ground, and reached up with what he could of his trapped arms, to place his own cautious hands over those that were holding him tight.

In his own unique way, he was trying to reassure Ivan that this was ok, that things were going to be fine, just like he'd promised before, even though he had no idea what he was really promising the other man in the long run.

He could hear Ivan's breathing even out, and felt as the Russian took one last calming breath to center himself before he tilted his head down and lightly placed a gentle kiss along Matthew's jaw.

The innocent action was almost over as soon as it began, and Matthew felt himself being freed not moments after. Unexpected disappointment filling him as he turned around to watch as an uncertain Ivan walked back to return his kit to the tool shed.

In some unhealthy way, it made Matthew strangely happy to see Ivan as uncomfortable with showing affection as he was, knowing without a doubt that almost every time the large Russian had done so, it had been involuntary and against his stoic nature.

But he knew that the other man didn't regret his actions, he was just unsure about how to proceed, and Matthew could absolutely relate to that.

Grabbing his own gear, Matthew followed behind him to put the rest of his own kit away. And by the time he had locked up the shed, he turned around to see Ivan looking guiltily down at his cell phone that he had procured from his coat pocket.

Walking over to where Ivan was standing, he leaned against the strong back so as to peer around his broad shoulders; he could see that Ivan had missed many calls from his Grandfather, and it was greatly upsetting him.

Matthew could almost feel the depression and worry returning as Ivan dialed one of the only two phone numbers he knew and held the receiver up to his ear, clearly not perturbed at all by Matthew's close proximity.

After several rings, Matthew watched as Ivan's brow creased with even more worry lines, the large man hanging up without even leaving a message before trying a few more times, and then in the end dialing his Grandfather's cell phone number instead.

Again no answer.

The tension was thick in the air now, and Ivan turned to face Matthew with shame and regret brewing in his eyes.

"I am late…" Ivan admitted. "Grandfad'der can v'orry…"

He let the words hang out there in the open air, and with what Matthew knew of the solemn young Russian, and with what he'd just witnessed a few hours before, it was clear why the relative would be slightly concerned over something like punctuality.

Matthew leaned back to free Ivan of his weight, but the thought of letting Ivan go and subsequently leaving Matthew to face his family alone was frightening. He nervously worried his bottom lip, and clenched his fingers in an anxious motion along the seams of his pants.

Ivan stopped in his action of putting his overcoat back on to observe the suddenly bleak looking young man. His own face taking on that same uncertain expression from just moments earlier, and he held out his hand in an offering to brave the walk back home alongside him.

By the way he was now avoiding Matthew's gaze, it was obvious he was completely unsure if the Canadian would accept.

But Matthew did, and with a reassuring smile, he took hold of the warm palm, and thankfully walked quietly by his side during the relatively short distance to his house.

As they neared their destination, Matthew could feel Ivan's grip tightening in apprehension. He didn't think the Russian was scared of his Grandfather, but he knew from when Ivan had cut himself that he didn't like to make the relative worry needlessly.

Ivan walked right into the townhouse without even needing to unlock the front door and scanned the front entrance for any sign of his Grandfather, all the while calling out for him in Russian.

Matthew immediately knew that something wasn't quite right, not just from the worried look on Ivan's face, but also with how several things were seemingly out of place, a table had been knocked over, and there were leaves littered throughout the front hall, as if someone, or several 'someones', had rushed in without caring about what they did to the place in the process.

Mathew suddenly felt his hand squeezed painfully hard and he winced from the careless action, even as he felt Ivan slowly beginning to panic and a sole Russian word escape his lips; and for once it was a word Matthew actually recognized.

"Nyet…."

The house was obviously empty, both young men knew that without even having to continue their search; because there, at the bottom of the steps, along with some ripped pieces of clothing, was the all too familiar sight of a large pool of blood.

TBC…

XXXXXXX

Author's Note:

Ok, so now you know.

Maybe not as horrible as I said it was going to be (or maybe it was?)

I went easy in the end and didn't show what happened to Ivan's father… but I'll say this…. it wasn't nice.

I work with someone who was familiar with the Russian mafia back when she lived there, and some of her stories are what made me want to add them from the beginning. I almost let Sasha give the game up back in the last chapter, but where's the fun in that.

I know this was all a bit f'd up, but the background scenes were some of the first planned, so hopefully they help explain a lot of Ivan's actions a bit better.

This whole chapter was very difficult for me to write, mainly because so many different emotions are being played out, and they change so rapidly, but hopefully it came across ok.

I may rewrite this depending on reviews, we'll see….

I was so nervous about this chapter I even forced someone to pre-approve it.

Thanks Dragonflamecrystal for all your help.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Warning of violence and language in the prologue.

_The front door downstairs was opened and slammed shut so hard that it made the walls around them rattle from the impact. _

_Matthew let out a whimper while he hid under his covers as his brother tried to hug him reassuringly, offering comfort in the only way he knew how._

_Matthew's injuries from the last time were still pretty severe, and Alfred knew without a doubt that his brother was terrified of what was to come._

_He pulled Matthew closer and held him all the tighter while his brain wracked through any and all possibilities of getting out of this._

_Running interference? _

_Causing a distraction? _

_Angering his father himself?_

_But none of those solutions would be effective in the long term, and in the end his father downstairs would only end up taking his frustration out on his innocent brother._

_In his entire life neither of his parents had ever laid a hand on Alfred himself, neither in reprimand nor in any form other than to offer comfort and encouragement. _

_Alfred watched in concern as his brother began to curl in on himself in both pain and fear, and knew that he would have given anything in the world at that moment to just somehow take his twin's place if he could._

'_And why couldn't he?' Alfred thought to himself..._

_Ok… so maybe in the bright light downstairs there wouldn't be a chance in hell that he'd be able to fool the two people who'd raised him since birth, but in this dark room… it was possible… _

_It was worth a shot…_

_Pushing his brother away with a sense of urgency, Alfred pulled off his brand new sweater and threw it over at Matthew._

"_Quick Mattie, give me your pajamas… we don't much time." But Matthew didn't move a muscle, staring up as his brother in confusion._

"_Al… what are you doing… " _

_His brother ignored him completely as he pulled Matthew's nightshirt off of him, and quickly put it on himself instead, while at the same time urging his twin to do the same. _

_Matthew quickly caught on to his plan, but there was a look of doubt that soon covered his features. _

"_Al…" he whispered back "You know that's not going to work… you'll never be able to fool…"_

"_Well what do you expect me to do then?" Alfred hissed in return "Make myself some popcorn while he tries to kill you!"_

_Matthew's eyes grew sad as he reached over and pulled the sweater on in compliant obedience, but his injuries prevented him from finishing the task and he was forced to accept his brother's help with switching their pants._

_Then as carefully as he could, Alfred helped his brother off of the mattress, and led him down to his hiding place underneath the bed, far against the back wall._

_Ruffling his brother's hair once in reassurance, Alfred put on a brave smile for his twin as he carefully addressed him. "Now Mattie… whatever you do, whatever you hear… you need to stay quiet. Don't… make… a sound! Please promise me you won't make a sound."_

_Matthew nodded weakly, his sad eyes shining in the dark as he tried to make himself as small as possible. His brother then jumped back onto the bed in order to pull himself under the covers where Matthew had been laying only seconds before._

_It was not a moment too soon, as just then the bedroom door flew open and the light from the hallway partially illuminated the small bedroom, creating a dark shadow where a large man stood in its path._

"_Where the fuck are you, you little shit!" Alfred heard his father demand as he spied him lying on the bed. _

_For all the world, the young blonde tried to look injured and afraid, but that part he didn't need to act out very much. The vision of his father lunging towards the bed was truly a frightening scene, and for just a moment Alfred actually regretted his actions as his father grabbed his hair and yanked him off of the bed, flinging him to the ground._

_His father kicked him hard in the gut before again grabbing him by his hair and yelling loudly into his face._

"_I fucking know you left the house today you ungrateful parasite." His father punctuated the last statement with a punch to his face that once again forced Alfred back onto the floor and left his head reeling._

_For the few brief seconds Alfred simply lay there coughing up what he thought might be blood, but when caught sight of Matthew's glowing eyes hiding under the bed, he knew without a doubt that the other boy was crying._

_The sight gave him strength and he smiled ever so slightly, happy to know that it was him being hurt for once instead of his brother._

_Alfred's head snapped back as his father grabbed him by the front of his shirt, holding him high up in the air and fiercely shaking him. Against his will, the young boy let out a painful gasp as he felt the action cause the hurt spread throughout his body. _

_He instantly wished he'd yelled out loudly in pain instead, or had said something… anything… louder that might have covered up the involuntary cry of concern that escaped Matthew's lips beneath the bed._

_His father's motions immediately stilled as he took a closer look at the young boy he was currently holding in his arms, and as realization spread across his face, an almost a cruel grin broke out when his eyes showed final recognition._

_Alfred shouted out at his father, and the 'NO' that escaped his lips almost came out more as a plea than a demand as he tried to grab onto his father's shifting arms to keep his attention._

_But it was too late, and Alfred could feel himself being thrown to the other side of the room while his father kneeled down and in one quick motion pulled his brother out from under the bed by his still injured ankle._

_Alfred quickly picked himself back up and he lunged at his father in retaliation, jumping on his back in an attempt to stop the inevitable. And as one small arm tried for some kind of pitiful choke hold on the older man's thick neck, the other arm banged repeatedly on his shoulder so that he might let go of the other flailing boy beneath them._

_His father did eventually let go… but it was only to pull Alfred off of his back, and then to take a swing that hit the smaller boy so hard in the face that it actually knocked him to the ground in a daze._

_It took some time for the room to stop spinning, and by the time he could right himself, Alfred soon realized that he was now alone in the room. _

_In those short precious moments, his father had taken Matthew downstairs, far away from his other interfering son. And from the cries that could now hear, all Alfred had really managed to do was to make the large man even angrier._

_Tears pricked at Alfred's eyes as that old familiar feeling of helplessness overcame him as it always did in the end. He was left shaking in anger on the ground at his shear uselessness and inability to assist his only brother._

_Alfred hated that he wasn't strong enough to do a thing to help his twin, even now. Because all he wanted to do at that very moment was to take Matthew away from here… to somehow save him._

_Caught in the darkness of his mind Alfred was suddenly pulled from its depth when he caught the sound of his name being called out by his brother downstairs, begging him… pleading for him to help in some way… to do something. _

_It shocked Alfred to his core... because as long as he could remember the beatings happening, his brother had never actually called out to him before, neither during… nor after. He'd only every accepted his offered help in silence. _

_The overwhelming desire to end this situation in any way possible washed over the young boy, and he stood up with determination as he dashed blindly down the hallway into his father's study. _

_His hand soon held a large paperweight in its grip and was smashing open a glass cabinet before his mind even caught up to what he was intending to do._

_Pulling the pistol out of its secure casing, Alfred quickly ran over to the desk and opened up the top drawer to reveal an unopened box of bullets. _

_With shaking fingers, he started to load the magazine; watching as quite a few of the bullets never managed make it inside before clattering down to the ground… but enough did make it, and they were all that he was going to need. _

_Alfred thought back to all the times his father had taken him to the practice with this very weapon. It was one of the many activities he still did with his one son. Pretending like always, that their life was normal, that there wasn't an identical copy sitting at home, usually recovering from some sort of injury or another… _

…_sitting all alone. _

_Slamming the magazine into the pistol, Alfred carelessly held the weapon as he ran back in the direction he'd just come from, turning sharply to descend the stairs. _

_Alfred didn't actually know just when it was that Matthew's screams had stopped earlier, but there was no longer any other sound emanating from the living room besides his father getting in a last few good punches._

_Upon entering the room, Alfred was sickened to once again see that his Mother had been there the whole time, watching the proceedings as if were nothing more than a program on the TV a she rocked back and forth and pulled at her thin wavy hair. _

_Alfred's heart nearly stopped when he saw his motionless brother now lying on the ground. There were splatters of blood on the wall where his father must have hurled him before letting him drop to the ground. _

_The young boy let out a strangled sob at the sight, instantly angry with himself for having taken so long to get back to Matthew, and at the same time terrified that he was too late. _

_With his hands still shaking, Alfred quietly raised the gun up high and was barely able to keep the weapon steady as the anger and anguish he felt inside collided together to try and give him the amount of strength needed. _

_And through blurry tear filled eyes, Alfred watched as his father turned his large head away from Matthew in a slow satisfied motion and a pleased smile crept up on the otherwise cruel face as he surveyed his handiwork. _

_But the man never got the chance to acknowledge his other son as their eyes met for only the briefest of second before the room was filled with the deafening sound of a weapon being fired. _

_Had Alfred been anywhere else, or maybe even just a little farther away from his target, he probably would have missed his shot completely. But with the close proximity, the young boy not only hit true, but he was able to watch in a sick fascination as his father's head before him seemed to explode from the impact. _

_For a while it had felt as if all time had stopped, and only when the body before him slumped forward to the ground and the sound of his mother's crying pierced the air, did he feel like the world had returned to normal._

_His mother was weeping hysterically as she surveyed the carnage, but not for the reasons Alfred would have assumed. _

_She ran across the room to hug him in desperation. All the while repeating that he didn't know the consequences of his actions. _

_While he stood there motionless and unable to move his eyes from the sight of his dead father, she continually stroked his hair back reassuringly and kept promising him over and over again that she couldn't let the cops take him away, and that they would never need to be separated. _

_Everything was in a foggy haze, and he felt like every muscle in his body was drained of all energy. Alfred didn't even both to resist when his mother took the weapon from his limp hands and with even less skill than he'd showed before, began firing it multiple times at the already dead body._

_The gunshots now made him flinch in a way that it hadn't before when he'd fired the very same weapon. _

_Smiling now to herself, his mother turned back to face him, a serene and happy expression visible on her face. "See Alfred… it's Ok, they won't take you now Alfred…. It's ok… do you see Alfred…" _

_With the reality of the situation only now returning, Alfred had nearly forgotten what had caused him to so drastically turn against his own father until he heard a muffled groan emanating from the floor beside his deceased parent. _

_Looking down, he could see that his brother was clearly incapacitated and barely conscious, but nonetheless Alfred let out a breath in relief that he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding. _

_Matthew was still alive… his brother was alive. _

_But Alfred wasn't the only person in the room to notice his twin's return to the living, and in his relief he'd nearly forgotten that his father had not been the only danger to Matthew's safety. _

_His Mother's expression turned grave as a strange look passed over her face before she once again raised the pistol, and turned the weapon to face her fallen son. _

_This time Alfred didn't even hesitate before lunging forward and pushing his incoherent brother to the side while at the same time trying to cover his broken body with own. _

_He was ever confident that his mother would never dare to take aim if he were there to block the clear path to his brother._

_And he was right… but he was also too late… _

_As Alfred felt the stinging pain of a bullet as it ripped through his left shoulder, all he could do was stare down into Matthew's now open eyes and silently reassure himself that in the end his brother was finally going to be safe._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Anger… resentment… hurt… those feelings and more fell together in Alfred's mind, and in their turn creating an overall feeling of loss as he stormed down the tree covered path.

For as far back as Alfred could remember, there had been nothing more important in his life than his twin brother Matthew. Barely a minute went by during the day when his other half wasn't on his mind.

Even when they had been younger, and Alfred's daily efforts had nearly not been enough to keep his quiet complacent brother alive; he had constantly had to worry about his brother's injuries, getting him food, and keeping his spirits high…

And since that time, Alfred had felt that little had changed… for him at least.

His day wasn't complete if it didn't include making sure that Mattie was safe by his side at the end of it.

In fact, Alfred's ever current need to be around his sibling was so strong that he even pretended sometimes to not understand his brother's late night tutoring lessons as much as he really did. He may not have been as smart as his brother, but he probably didn't need to work with him as much into the late hours of the night to grasp some of the simpler subjects.

It's just that he'd missed those tutoring sessions they used to do together when they were younger as they'd sat quietly in Alfred's bedroom for hours on end, going over the days lessons that had been denied to Matthew in his youth.

In short, Matthew made him feel complete.

It was like Alfred had one purpose in his life, and that was to be by his brother's side.

And now… now Mattie didn't want him there.

Reaching up to gently touch his bruised cheek, Alfred could still feel the sting where his twin had struck him earlier. While Mattie had not hit him hard, he may as well have ripped out Alfred's heart and cut it in half while he was at it.

And as Alfred had watched his mirror image run into the Ice Rink after that dangerous man, he could only stand there immobile, as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, just like that one day so long ago.

He had desperately wanted to run after him, but at that very moment he hadn't been sure he could bear to have Mattie's disappointed gaze directed his way ever again.

For Alfred, it was worse than any physical blow Matthew had given him.

He had spent the next few hours walking around the campus and skipping his morning classes, just as he had known that Mattie had also done.

In the end though, his worry and angst over what the Russian student could be doing to his brother at that very moment finally drove him back to the rink to remove Mattie by force if necessary. But when he'd arrived, they were both gone, and the only ones now in the rink were the women's figure skating team.

The rest of the morning had been spent frantically walking around the campus in the spots he knew Matthew most liked to visit, but they all turned up equally as empty.

His anxiety reached a fever point when he finally decided to call his Uncle as a last resort to see if he'd heard from his twin; although he had known it was a long shot at best.

Not surprisingly, his Uncle had revealed that he'd not heard from him at all and Alfred had quickly ended the conversation before he had to answer any questions of his own. He promised to call his Uncle back later, and told him that it had just a misunderstanding between the two; that Mattie was fine.

Although to Alfred, nothing could have been further from the truth.

Standing sullenly in the middle of the path, an idea suddenly came to blonde student as he remembered having driven by Ivan while had been walking on his way to school the week before. If the foreign student had been able to get by without a drive, then it probably meant he didn't live too far from the campus.

Quickly running to the front administration building, Alfred conjured up all the charm and skill he'd learned over the years from having to lie for Matthew, and fabricated a believable enough story about having to get a hold of Ivan.

Although highly against policy, it was amazing what a disarming smile, and a little flirtation could get you when you needed it to.

Before long, Alfred was peering down at a familiar street name that had been neatly written on a piece of paper for him by a pretty young secretary. He excitedly began walking in that direction, glad that he'd be proven right about the location of Ivan's home.

As he walked off the campus with a sense of purpose in each and every step, a single determined thought rolled around in his head: he was going get his brother back one way or the other.

Just the thought of Mattie being where he couldn't help him was terrifying; it filled him with a sense of dread that he could barely describe even to his brother.

There had been too many close calls in the past; and a whole lot of "what if I had just arrived a few minutes later…"

There were many nights he would still wake up in a cold sweat remembering past times when Matthew had been beaten so badly that he had been unsure if he were unconscious or dead.

Or there was the dream of that time when he'd followed Mattie and his mother out into the middle of the night, and witnessed her shocking attempt to drown her son… and his own subsequent fumbled efforts to pull the lifeless body out of the river and administer what little he knew of mouth to mouth in order to resuscitate the cold still body.

And the worst nightmare of all would always be the visions of that last time his family had been together, when both his parents had turned on his brother in such equally horrifying ways.

He wasn't sure he was ever going to forget the way his brother had begged Alfred to do something… anything to save him.

And he did save him… and he'd do it again in a heartbeat… whether Matthew asked or not.

His rapid thoughts fueled his next actions as he briskly walked up to the address that was listed on the piece of paper. He banged loudly on the townhouse door, unsure exactly what he was going to do when it finally did open, but knowing that he would do whatever it took to get his brother out of there for good.

After a few moments, there was still no answer, and Alfred rang the bell as he again pounded on the door a few more times. He knew someone was home as there was a car parked neatly in the driveway, and a quick peek through the kitchen window next to the steps revealed some untouched but fresh looking plates of food being served for lunch.

His temper soon got the best of him, along with the worried thoughts in his head, and he decided to just force his way into the house in case his brother was upstairs… or maybe being held against his will in the basement, or worse…

His thoughts might seem farfetched to the ordinary person, but he'd personally witnessed his brother in all sorts of similar predicaments before, and the images came all too easily to his fragile mind.

The door was thankfully unlocked, proving once again that someone was indeed home, and Alfred called out to his brother as he entered the quiet hallway.

"Mattie… Mattie I know you're here… I know you're mad, but please… I really think you need to come home…."

He only answer was a chilling silence.

Walking further into the house, he was just about to turn into a door near the entrance that he was sure led to the basement, when he caught the faint sound of a dial tone emanating from a phone off the hook somewhere in the house.

It was that noise alone that pushed him further down along until he reached the end of the hallway; his eyes constantly on the lookout for any signs of another person.

But when he finally did reach the stairs, he instead recoiled in surprise at a sight he'd not been expecting at all.

Lying either unconscious or dead at the bottom of the steps was the body of an older gentleman whom Alfred was entirely unfamiliar with.

The old man's right hand was still loosely clutching his left arm over his heart, and he was crumpled in a position that might have been to ease the obvious fall he'd taken down the stairs.

Alfred could now see that the noise that he'd originally heard was the upstairs phone dangling off its hook at the top of the staircase.

Looking back at the fallen man, Alfred's eyes noted something he'd missed the first time he'd surveyed the area, a small pool of blood that was quickly forming underneath the grey hair, and was increasing in diameter by the second.

A part of the banister nearby also showed some traces of blood, and it didn't take long for Alfred to put two and two together and figured out what had happened.

Without wasting another second he ran to kneel beside the injured man, carefully turning him over onto his back as he gently supported his neck and spine so that that the injured side of his head could be visible for inspection.

Knowing he didn't have time to look around for a First Aid kit, Alfred ripped off his long sleeve shirt, and began to tear it up into pieces before pressing the majority of the fabric up against the old man's head to stop the bleeding.

He then paused to search around the man's neck for the main artery that he knew he'd find there, and to check for any sort of pulse, no matter how weak.

And while it was barely there, he did find one.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Alfred reached back into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, dialing his Uncle's work number as fast as he could while he simultaneously checked the grey haired gentleman over for any other visible sighs of injury.

While Alfred had no actual medical training to speak of, emergency care had definitely become an obsession of his ever since the first time he fumbled his way through a mouth to mouth recitation on the cold banks of a river when he was only eight years old.

At the time he had gone off of what he'd seen on TV and some lessons he'd barely paid attention to in Boy Scouts. But the near death experience and the subsequent responsibilities of taking care of his injured brother after their mother stopped caring, had forced Alfred to learn as much as he could in a short amount of time.

He had taken books out at the library, read what he could on the internet, and had spent all his allowance on supplies from the drug store.

In particular he was quite good at taking care of open wounds and dealing with large amounts of blood.

On the other end of the line, his Uncle finally picked up, but Alfred could barely be understood as he rambled on about needing help, getting to the hospital, and loss of blood.

"Alfred, stop! You're talking too fast. What is going on? Is Matthew hurt?" came the worried reply.

The student tried to stop the blood covered cell phone from slipping further down his now sweaty cheek, while still holding the cloth up to the bleeding wound. He took a long deep breath in order to compose himself.

"I'm at Ivan's house… and there was a man… and he's fallen down the stairs. I think he might have had a heart attack… but I don't know… he's hurt his head… and I'm just trying to stop the bleeding…but he needs to get the hospital." Alfred finally managed to spit out as calmly as he could.

The other end was quiet for a second, his Uncle maybe trying to figure out if his nephew's story held any merit where it concerned the young man named Ivan, particularly after the last conversation he'd had alone with the boy.

After all, his nephew was very prone to lying, especially when it concerned Matthew. But there was an honest quality to Alfred's voice at that very moment that must have finally convinced Francis that he was very serious in this matter.

"Alfred… listen to me very closely, I need you to hang up right now and dial 9-1-1, I'm going to leave work right away and I will meet you at the hospital. Do you think you can do that?" His uncle asked him with a steady and even voice.

Alfred suddenly felt like a complete idiot for missing the obvious….911 of course… he hadn't even thought to call them.

All those years of dealing with Matthew's injuries on his own, his first reaction was always to keep it inside the family, and in the worst-case scenarios, beg his mother for some kind of help.

But things were different now, he could get help from the outside world and he didn't have to keep things hidden anymore.

"Y-yeah Uncle, I can do that… I'll see you there." He hung up the cell phone before his Uncle was able to respond, and dialed the number he should have called in the first place.

After getting through to someone on the emergency line, it took no time at all for the dispatcher to inform him that help would soon be on its way.

The entire time he then waited, she patiently stood by and talked Alfred through some of the more complicated things he would have to do to keep the man stable while he waited for the paramedics to arrive.

And though it seemed like hours had passed before he heard the blessed sounds of the ambulance sirens and the front door to the small townhouse fly open as several uniformed men ran in with medical bags and a stretcher, Alfred never once strayed from his task of keeping the injured stranger alive.

Only when he felt a reassuring hand grasp him on the shoulder, and a soft British accent whisper encouragingly in his ear that 'it was ok now' and that he could 'let go' did Alfred finally release his strong hold on the dying man.

TBC..

XXXX

Author's Notes:

I wasn't going to write a chapter today… then I did.

Don't think my last chapter went over well, but why stop now when I only have a few left.

You gets what you gets.

So anyways the bit above with Alfred and the grandfather is what you might call a "red herring" and I enjoyed every minute of it.

SUCKERS! I know what you were all thinking :P

Told you I'd redeem the little bugger… I like Alfred

In case I don't write a chapter tomorrow (on the basis that I hope to be meeting with my fellow stranded Canadians to celebrate the glory that is my home country's former Dominion Day.

Happy Matthew Day one and all.


	13. Chapter 13

It was strangely similar to being stuck in some kind of hazy dream that you simply could not wake up from no matter how much your mind told you that this was not reality.

Or maybe it was like that feeling you got when you are all of the sudden trapped in a memory so detailed that for just a single moment you are actually believe that you are still living and breathing in a time long since past; somehow, stuck in an internal loop of something you know has already past.

Or at least, that's how it felt to Ivan.

There was probably a million things he should have been saying or people he should been calling, but right then… right now… it was like he wasn't really standing in a hallway at all, or looking at what he knew was without a doubt the bloody remains of his now missing grandfather.

Instead, Ivan was thousands of miles away in a different country altogether, being held back against his will by two stronger men whom he just can't find the strength to escape.

And inside he was screaming… and he didn't know how to stop...

Ivan might very well have remained ensnared in that horrible dark place that he could never seem to fully escape from, if at that very moment Matthew hadn't wrenched his hand out of the painfully strong grip that Ivan had unknowingly been making. It took all of Ivan's concentration not to fall back into the depth of his memories as he watched the Canadian kneel down to inspect the evidence before them.

Matthew carefully leaned forward and with trepidation picked up a piece of the blood soaked cloth, holding it up for inspection as his brows instantly creased in worry… and some kind of recognition.

"Ivan… I know this shirt…" But before Matthew could say another word, the door that they had just left partially ajar behind them, opened up as another person entered into the small town house.

Instinctively, Ivan stepped out in front of Matthew to block the way, while at the same time frantically searching with his eyes for something… anything that could be used as a weapon, but he could find nothing.

He realized only a split second later that his reaction was uncalled for as he caught sight of his elderly next-door neighbor that he barely knew himself, but who was good friends with his Grandfather.

As she walked cautiously in through the front door, it was enough that he let is guard down somewhat while still standing his ground; there was nothing in the world at this point that would be enough to fully remove the feelings of anxiety and fear still clutching his heart in its claws.

The old woman, Ivan thought her name might have been Mrs. Mullins, looked genuinely relieved and happy to see him standing in the front foyer. But he also noted with some concern that she was seemed completely un-phased by either the sight of the blood, or the state of the hallway.

"Ivan, oh Ivan… I'm so glad you're home. I saw that you were back from the hospital, and I had to come over and see how your Grandfather was doing or to see if you needed any help at all. I was so scared when I saw them take him away earlier."

If at all possible, the feelings of apprehension and worry that were already threatening to tear Ivan apart, increased tenfold and he instantly felt like the floor was opening up beneath his feet to swallow him whole.

As the old lady waited patiently for him to tell her some sort of news, Ivan tried to formulate the words to ask what she herself knew… what she had seen… what had happened… but nothing came out.

It was like he'd lost his voice all over again, some kind of failsafe to keep him at least somewhat partially sane. Ivan could only clench his hands in frustration and swallow his words with great difficulty in his suddenly bone dry throat. He was without a doubt too frightened to ask for any answers that his neighbor could possibly provide.

It was Matthew who finally relieved him of the duty of even trying, and stepped forward in front of the frozen man. Ivan vaguely noticed the piece of cloth still clutched in his fingers as Matthew's other hand reached up to hold on to Ivan's upper arm for support, although he was unsure just who the motion was supposed to keep stable.

"I'm sorry Ma'am… b-but we have no idea what's going on here. We only just arrived… I think someone may have broken in… but we don't know… and Mr. Braginski is mi…"

The kind but worried expression on the old lady turned to distrust as she narrowed her eyes at Matthew in confusion. "How can you not know? I saw you leave with him in the ambulance not 20 minutes ago. Dmitri _Zima," _She stressed his correct last name "has been a good friend of mine for many years now… if it's serious… or… or if he didn't make it…. You don't need to lie to me just because you think I'm too old; I deserve that much. I deserve the truth!" The old lady began to choke up as she addressed the young man whom she'd never met before, but it was nothing compared to the pitiful noise that escaped Ivan's lips as a sickening realization hit him square in the chest.

Ivan let out a strangled sound deep in his throat, somewhere between a sob and an exhalation of breath as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. He felt like a pair of hands were closing in on his windpipe, and it was suddenly much too hard to make the effort to breathe.

In the back of his mind he could hear Matthew's voice, denying what the old lady was saying; trying to explain that he'd been with Ivan the whole time. But there was a touch of panic to his voice that let Ivan know that Matthew was just as aware as he was of what the truth of the situation was turning out to be.

His elderly neighbor hadn't seen Matthew at all... she'd seen someone who looked just like him.

It was Alfred who'd been in the house earlier…

…alone…

…with his grandfather.

Ivan's vision started to darken and the voices in the background dimmed further until either both parties had entirely stopped talking, or he'd simply stopped listening.

The hand that was on his left upper arm tightened in what Ivan supposed was meant in to be in comfort, but all it did was make him feel like he was being held back by force… just like the last time.

He snapped his arm away from Matthew and ignored both exclamations of surprise as he stalked out the door and started running as quickly as he could towards the main intersection not far from his house.

There was only one hospital nearby, and that was mostly likely where his Grandfather had been taken. He needed to find a taxi as soon as possible so he could learn just exactly what was going on.

Alternatively, he needed to get as far away as possible from Matthew before he did something he truly regretted.

Ivan wanted… no needed to hurt something or someone so badly at that very moment. To cause someone as much pain as he currently felt inside, even though he knew deep down that the only one he really wanted to hurt was himself.

A million hateful thoughts filled his head, directed towards Alfred, Matthew, his past… and mostly himself.

How could he be so stupid a second time around?

Had Anatoly really failed that spectacularly to teach him a lesson after all that he'd been through?

To not only once again risk his family's safety over the prospect of some kind of impossible relationship, but to do so with someone who so clearly from the start had been closely connected to an overprotective brother…

It was not just sheer stupidity; no… it was selfishness at a whole new level.

In the back of his mind Ivan could hear someone call out his name desperately as they ran up behind him to catch up. And Ivan inwardly swore to himself when he recognized Matthew's voice yelling at him to stop and wait for just one moment.

All too soon, he felt the other's hands as they latched on to his arm and attempted to swing him around to face him.

But it was as effective as trying to stop a moving train.

"Ivan, stop… Please… I'm begging you…you have to listen to me, Alfred wouldn't hurt…" At the mention of his brother's name, Ivan finally did stop, but it was only to grab hold of Matthew's wrist so as to break the grip and prevent any further attempts at following him. Ivan then aggressively flung the smaller student away from him so that he fell hard onto the leaf covered ground below.

"NO!" Ivan yelled at the prone boy with all the anger and hurt and complete and utter helplessness he felt in that instant. "NOT… AGAIN!"

Matthew made no attempts to get back up, instead, sitting there stunned and completely out of breath from the chase. His blonde wavy hair that for so long now had captured Ivan's attention; was tossed completely out of place, barely covering the wide eyes hidden behind the delicately framed glasses he always wore. Matthew's gaze didn't dare waiver from the upset young man standing before him with such unveiled ferocity.

As Ivan stood there with his hands shaking from the effort it took to control his actions, he could see the other boy's own emotions bubbling up to the forefront as for the second time that day Matthew bore witness to a hidden rage in Ivan he had only ever displayed one other time his life.

It should have been more than enough to strike fear into the center of Matthew's heart, to be enough of a warning to back off and let him deal with what little of the situation he could on his own, but as Ivan moved to turn and walk away for good, the Russian heard a chocked plea that somehow stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Please Ivan… don't leave me alone here… not like this…" it had been barely a whisper, but the words were voiced with an entirely different fear than the one Ivan had been aiming for.

He slowly turned back to where Matthew sat utterly dejected on the cold ground with one of his hands now held up high, as if he could simply pull the larger man back just by wishing it. Ivan's heated expression broke just a little as he made out the sincere sadness and worry in the smaller man's eyes.

To Ivan, Matthew looked just as lost and confused as he himself felt at that very moment.

Ivan wasn't at all sure why this alone was enough to ground him, to bring him back from that dark place he always seemed to run to hide in these days, but for whatever reason… it just was.

He slowly walked back over to where Matthew still had yet to stand up, and instead kneeled himself down between the Canadian's legs.

The arm that had previously been extended to call Ivan back, now carefully reached over to grab his shoulder and gently pull Matthew up so that he could seize the once strong stoic young man into an awkward embrace, more as a way to keep Ivan from leaving again, then for any other reason.

As Matthew leaned forward, Ivan could feel how his body trembled slightly from the effort, his breath almost painfully hot as it ghosted past his ear, whispering the words that Matthew had been trying to say before, now spoken in a soft broken voice, not at all confident or in any way reassuring.

"Ivan… I…I honestly don't know what's going on right now… not with you… or with your grandfather or with… with my brother. But whatever it is… I'm just as disoriented as you are right now…"

Matthew paused, clearly struggling to find the words that could somehow convey just how remorseful he was over everything that had happening. "I'm truly sorry Ivan… you have no idea how sorry I am for bringing my problems into your life. I'm selfish and… and I knew I should have just kept you at arm's length… and I didn't... But I'm begging you not to shut me out right now. I've had to lean on someone else to survive all my life… so please… please just let me help fix this one thing for you. Then I swear… I promise you, I'll walk out of your life and you'll never have to hear from either of us again. "

Taking a deep breath, Ivan closed his eyes tightly as he shakily stood up from the ground, forcing Matthew, who still had his arms circled around him, to stand up at the same time.

When both boys were safely back on their feet, Ivan carefully reached up to slowly pull Matthew's arms away from his shoulder, sliding his hands along their lengths until he had both warm palms securely fasted in his unsteady grip.

He looked down into Matthew's seemingly bottomless eyes, and tried to convey all the things he couldn't put into words, both from lack of experience or lack of ability to do so in a language almost as foreign to him as Matthew was.

"I don't know if I… can save him… d'is time… " The quietly spoken words were both a confession and an apology in one, carrying a weight with them so heavy that Ivan could barely believe that he'd managed to say them at all.

"I know… I don't know either." Matthew painfully admitted as he dropped his eyes away in guilt from the intense gaze above him.

Ivan creased his brows as his lips tightened in uncertainty to reveal just how hard it was for him to say these words to another person, but also just how much he meant them as well. "Stay Matvey… now… later… please, just… stay."

Matthew visibly relaxed as his whole body involuntarily released a sigh of relief, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Ivan's broad chest.

"I'm not going anywhere Ivan… I'll stay right here… as long as you still need me."

Ivan acknowledged Matthew's reply in the only way he knew how at that moment, by simply freeing one of Matthew's hands and starting once again down the sidewalk that led to the main intersection. He was still worried and unsure about what to do next, but he felt somehow braver than he had a few minutes ago, drawing what strength he could from the young man who despite everything, was standing by his side.

Matthew silently kept up with him without another word, as he too was lost in his own dark train of thoughts. When Ivan quickly glanced back to gage the other's mood, he had a dawning realization that the Canadian might be just as worried as he was about what they might find when they got to the hospital. There was a lot riding on what they'd learn, and much of it could affect both their lives in very different life altering ways.

That thought alone was enough to cause Ivan to pull Matthew just a bit closer as they continued down the road, not as a way to force him to walk nearby his side, but more as a way to show that he really was no longer trying to push him away… that he did need him there after all.

By now the sun was starting to slowly set, and the early crisp fall weather of the morning was nothing compared to cool temperatures that the evening brought forth.

Ivan thought that if not for Matthew's constant presence at his side just then, he might forever be lost in the numbing cold that the day's circumstances had brought with them, no matter what they found in the end.

As they walked in continued silence, they had not yet made much headway at all by the time the early evening quiet was broken by a loud ringing that sharply pierced the air, while at the same time interrupting both their musings.

Startled, Matthew stopped walking to reach into his back pocket and retrieve his long forgotten phone. It had rung a several times on their walk over from the school to Ivan's house, but Matthew had been all too happy to ignore whomever was on the other end at the time.

But now he couldn't afford to ignore the phone any longer.

After everything that had just happed, Matthew could only stare at the device in utter confliction and shock as the all too familiar name appeared electronically on the Display Screen. He was torn between answering the call or literally throwing the device away.

Matthew worried his lower lip before taking one last look back up at Ivan, only then finding the strength needed to open the flip phone and answer the person on the other end.

"Hello… Alfred?"

Ivan looked away from him, unable even to watch the proceedings as they unfolded, but all the while still holding on to Matthew's hand with a sure and steady grip.

But Matthew had waited too long… the call had already gone to Voice Mail.

XXXXXXXXXX

Shivering quietly to himself as he sat alone in the cold hospital waiting room, Alfred hung up his phone in disgust for the third time in the last so many minutes.

He'd been trying to reach Matthew ever since he'd arrived at the hospital, but each time he'd only ever gotten through to his Voicemail. Alfred knew full well that his brother was probably still mad at him… but why couldn't he answer now… now that things had gotten serious.

Looking down at his mobile phone, Alfred watched forlornly as the display on his phone started to blink on and off; the short battery life finally giving in to the extensive overuse that day and dying before his very eyes.

Chucking the phone angrily to the seat next to him, Alfred ran his hands over his face and through his hair to try and ease the tension. Finding the action not nearly enough to help, he stood up and vacated the waiting room in favour of getting some fresh air.

His Uncle, whom he'd met up with as soon as he gotten out of the ambulance, was currently busy talking with some nurses at the Front desk, while trying to sort through the paperwork and admittance information, thankfully alleviating Alfred of the task himself.

As Alfred walked through the thick double sliding doors located at the Emergency Entrance of the hospital, he shuddered as soon as the cool fall air washed over his still bare shoulders.

Sitting himself down on one of the concrete ledges and leaning back against the glass windows next to the door, Alfred brought his hands up to rub some friction over his cold arms in an attempt to generate some sort of heat. He slumped forward a bit to peer at the ground, wondering to himself if it was really as cold outside as he felt, of if it was all maybe only in his head.

As he wondered this, Alfred was startled when he felt a thick material drape itself over his back, instantly cutting the path of the chill in the air, and providing some much need warmth.

Alfred looked up over his shoulder and saw one of the Paramedics from earlier nonchalantly positioning himself next to the sitting student while lighting a cigarette.

The man had wild messed up blonde hair, and a unique shade of green eyes that Alfred was sure he'd never seen before. He wore only a navy blue long-sleeved shirt that had medical insignia and the letters EMS sewed all over it, a clear indication of his status as a Paramedic with the Toronto Emergency Medical Services.

It was obviously this man that had thrown his short heavy jacket over Alfred's naked torso.

When the man finally did speak, Alfred immediately recognized the gruff accented voice from earlier, not just from Ivan's house, but also the seemingly endless ambulance ride over to the hospital.

"I'm surprised the nurses didn't give you something to wear, you're just as likely to go into shock from the experience as any patient is." The British man sounded greatly annoyed as he said this, although Alfred was fairly certain that the paramedic wasn't directing his ire over at him.

" 's'ok…" was Alfred's reply. "I'm used to this sort of thing." But he made no move to take off the jacket, and instead pulled it tighter across his chest.

The blonde paramedic looked Alfred over with his well trained eyes, and seemed to be assessing whether or not what Alfred was saying was true, before pulling out pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offering one to the young man.

"Smoke?" He asked.

Alfred was about to reply 'I don't smoke' before a strange urge overtook him, and he found himself taking the offered cigarette and a subsequently offered lighter from the long slender fingers.

"Thanks" Alfred mumbled as he brought the small stick of tobacco up to his lips to inhale a long deep drag of smoke.

The paramedic continued to evaluate him in the dim light of the emergency entryway as Alfred instantly broke into a strong coughing fit.

Before he knew it, the Brit had snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it onto to the ground before stepping on it with an exasperated glance over at Alfred who was still hitting his chest to alleviate the cough.

"Nasty habit, these smokes. You probably shouldn't start it if you haven't already."

Alfred nodded numbly, his expression falling as his thoughts drifted back to his missing brother without even meaning to.

"Strange as it seems…" The Paramedic added as he broke into Alfred's melancholy one more. "…but something tells me you're not mooning outside right now because of that man upstairs on the operating table having his heart cut open."

Snorting softly to himself, Alfred forced a cheeky grin that seemed just as out of place on his face as it felt. "Nah… I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my brother that I just killed his boyfriend's dad."

The paramedic thought this over quietly in his head before tossing his own barely used cigarette onto the ground, intently watching as the smoldering tip sparked under the crush of his steel toed boot.

"You know… I'm starting to think that you don't fully grasp the situation right now." The paramedic shook his head slowly, as if genuinely surprised that anyone could be as thick as Alfred. "You just saved that poor bugger's life, whether you know it or not. That old man upstairs… he should be dead right now… even with you having shown up, and yet against all reason… he's still alive… for now at least. You're brother will probably think you're a hero, and really… you kinda are."

Hero? Alfred scoffed… that was probably the last thing Matthew would be thinking when he found out the truth, even if it _was_ the one thing he'd always tried to be for his brother.

The Brit cocked his head towards Alfred as the young man continued to stare at the ground. "Ever consider becoming a Doctor? You seem to have a knack for this kind of work." This was asked without any hint of sarcasm in his voice at all.

Alfred couldn't help the full laugh that erupted from his lips; especially when he saw the irritated look the Paramedic now cast him. "If you saw my grades you wouldn't be asking me that sort of thing."

But the paramedic continued undeterred. "Alright… then maybe something less glamorous. Our trucks could always use someone like you, someone who's not squeamish at the sight of blood, can work under pressure…" he let his words trail off almost in a question as he saw Alfred get a thoughtful look of his own.

It was almost as if the idea had never occurred to the young man before, and truthfully… it hadn't.

Until that very moment Alfred had never once even considered what the future could possibly hold for him in anyway, especially with concerns to a job. Thoughts like those had always been reserved for worrying about his brother welfare.

But just what _were_ they going to do after they'd graduated from school? It dawned on Alfred at that particular moment that he'd never even asked Mattie what he wanted to be when he grew up … in the past the answer might only have been "I just want to be given the chance to grow up at all."

But now they were almost done growing up, in fact, they were basically adults.

Somehow, despite all the odds against them, they had actually made it this far after all.

So now what?

Upon hearing no reply from the pensive young man sitting beside him, the paramedic reached into his wallet and pulled out a card before setting it down beside where Alfred sat on the cold concrete ledge.

The man then stood up and stretched his arms out for good measure as he cast a glance back at the hospital.

"Keep my jacket for now… it looks like you need it a bit more than I do. Just leave it at the front desk before you go. And hey… if you ever do want to try the exciting life of an 'Underappreciated Emergency Ambulanceman', well… just ring me up, my numbers on the card. EMS is accepting new applicants; and if you're lucky, I might even put in a good word for you. Also…" the man went strangely quiet as he turned away from Alfred to instead stare at his truck off in the distance, perhaps a bit nervous to be offering something that was so out of character for him. "If you ever just need someone to talk to… well… like I said, number's on the card."

Alfred's only reply was a slight nod to his head, his mind now too preoccupied with the rampant thoughts running through his brain. But in the back of his mind he watched as the paramedic waved one last time and made his way back to the rest of his team who were grabbing some quick snacks before hitting the road again. Without a doubt they would have a long night ahead of them as always.

Gingerly picking up the business card that laid so precariously close to him, Alfred briefly scanned the words written in bold letters, 'Arthur Kirkland, Toronto EMS', before placing it in his back pocket for safekeeping almost without thinking. He then shrugged his arms into the sleeves of the thick jacket to properly wear it and soak up the valuable warmth it provided him.

It was the last thing he did before the corner of his eyes caught the most wonderful sight he could ever hope to see, his brother walking swiftly up the long driveway to the Emergency Room entrance.

The feeling of relief that filled him was almost too powerful to put into words. Alfred immediately jumped out of his seat and ran over to his brother, engulfing him a large desperate hug while he squeezed him so tight he was sure that it must almost be painful.

But he didn't care, he was just so happy to see his brother safe and sound.

Much too soon, Matthew began to squirm uncomfortably in his arms, gently pushing him away while at the same time keeping him at arm's length "Al… just what's going on?"

All thoughts of his brother's return vanished when Alfred spotted the imposing figure standing beside him. Although he was just now noticing the large Russian, Alfred had no doubt in his mind that Ivan had been there the entire time. And Ivan had every reason at that very moment to distrust him more than anyone else in the world.

Trying to ignore the threat, Alfred looked back at his brother to quickly defend his actions before things got too far out of hand.

"I-I went looking for you Mattie… I was worried… you knew I would be. And I went to Ivan's house…"

Matthew lifted his other hand to stop his brother from continuing.

"We got your phone messages Al… I tried calling you back, but I couldn't get through."

"Yeah… the battery died" Alfred replied, thinking of his dead phone he'd left sitting on the waiting room chair as Matthew's hands tightened anxiously on the sleeves of the jacket he was wearing.

"Listen Al, we can talk about why you were at Ivan's house later… but what I need to know right now… is if what you said on the phone was true? Did you really save Ivan's Grandfather… it he ok?" Matthew's voice betrayed his worry for a variety of reasons, as his eyes shifted from Ivan, and then back over to his brother

Alfred's expression morphed from apprehensive to regret as he actually backed away a few steps to look up at the cold building, and more importantly, away from Ivan.

"I found him lying at the bottom of the stairs. They think he might have had an aneurysm, or maybe a full out attack, not to mention his skull had cracked open from the fall… but either way he's in pretty bad shape. He's in surgery right now, the Doc's are performing an emergency bypass as we speak… but it's too soon to tell."

Ivan stiffened beside them, and Alfred momentarily worried that the Russian didn't believe him and was going to strike him, but it soon became clear that the large student actually didn't understand enough English to catch any of the medical terms at all and was just trying to understand what was going on.

Ivan's face looked pale, and he licked his dry lips as he turned to ask Matthew in his choppy accented voice. "Matvey…. Is he… ok?"

Alfred cringed when he heard the honest concern and pure fear that coated Ivan's tentative question. The man was without a doubt a step away from having a heart attack himself while trying to learn the condition of his injured relative.

It was the first time that Alfred could actually relate to the foreign student on a level that he truly and deeply understood. And if he hadn't felt guilty about his actions from earlier that day, he certainly did now.

Matthew smiled kindly up at the taller man in a way that many people might have found reassuring, but Alfred recognized it instantly for the lie it really was.

"Ivan, your Grandfather hurt himself falling down the stairs. And just like the message said, Alfred found him and brought him here. He's with the doctors right now. We just have to wait a bit to see him, ok?"

Ivan shook his head to indicate that this wasn't ok, but his eyes didn't look angry or frustrated… just sad, maybe even a little resigned.

Alfred couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards the other student; especially after he himself had put so much of his own sweat into trying and save the old man's life, and he didn't even know him. It contrasted sharply with how only that morning he would have been all too happy to see Ivan so out of sorts.

"Hey, don't sweat it big guy. The docs told me your Granddad had a lot of fight in him, to have held on for this long."

Alfred wasn't really expecting a response, and was genuinely surprised when Ivan lifted his eyes to meet his, and gave the faintest of wistful smiles.

"Da… he has fight…he is strong."

And then so fast, that Alfred actually flinched back at the contact; Ivan lifted his large hand to clasp the smaller man on his shoulder.

"T'ank you… for… you're help... for… for… " Ivan stopped talking, and it wasn't because he didn't know the words, just that he didn't seem able to express them with all the inner turmoil going on inside his head.

He quickly dropped his hand, nodding once sharply as if he'd said more then he'd planned, and then quietly pushed past Alfred to make his way into the hospital.

Alfred turned back to his brother with his eyebrows raised, but his heart fluttered when he saw his brother staring at him with a slight frown and a strange look that softened his eyes.

"You really… you really had me going there Al… I-I recognized your shirt, you know… and after what you did to Ivan's stuff… and what happened with… our parents… but just like always, you… you really came through in the end, didn't you? You always do, even when…"

Alfred cut him off, not quite ready or willing for this conversation to happen just then, when both their emotions were still so sore from earlier… so raw.

"Come on Mattie, let's get inside, Uncle Francis was about ready to send out a man hunt to find you two."

Both twins turned to quietly join Ivan in the uncomfortable atmosphere that was sure to be waiting for them inside.

Alfred did not place a hand on his brother's back to lead him forward. He did not reach down like he normally would have to clasp his brother's hand is own; he did not even move closer by his side just to feel that his brother was standing safely next to him.

Something had changed that morning when Matthew had lashed out earlier at him with years of some pent up emotion that Alfred was still trying to figure out. And for some reason he now found himself unable to do any of those things that he would have normally done without a single thought in the past.

In fact, the only further physical contact that either of them made as they walked through the sliding doors was when Matthew momentarily stopped to tug at the dark navy blue coat with the bright florescent silver stripes.

"Where'd you get the jacket Al?"

XXXXX

AN: I had great inspiration for this chapter as I sat the other morning writing this in an Emergency Room for completely unrelated reasons. But there you have it. For those who are in know and have asked… the foot's ok… doesn't need to be chopped off… this time :P.

Did anyone else notice I'd left poor Alfred shirtless in the last chapter? All I could think of was getting some clothes back on that poor boy…

Also yes Matthew and Alfred keep messing up who Ivan's Grandfather is… hey, they've never met him.

Arthur's being British and living and working in Canada doesn't really need to be explained much in the story. Canada and the UK have VERY loose immigration laws due to both Countries being in the Common Wealth. To be honest Alfred probably wouldn't even have noticed anything unusual with it, especially in a major city, other than to note the accent. Also I do actually know people with natural green eyes, and many more with "hazel". No reason to change this at all J

I apologize profusely for the sap… I hate sap, and I hope it wasn't too bad.


	14. Chapter 14

_The two small boys laid together arm in arm hidden under the blankets, as they huddled together in safety and warmth, enjoying the short pretence of peace and quiet while they could._

"_Al… h-how do you think this'll end? Do you think that maybe… we could get a happy ending."_

_Alfred shifted uncomfortably on the bed, unwilling to answer as he looked anywhere but at his brother's hopeful eyes._

_After all… how could any of this possibly end well?"_

xxxxxx

Matthew had barely made his way into the waiting room before his frazzled Uncle accosted from the side him without any warning. His shoulders were grabbed roughly and he was shaken lightly, although only in a sign of concern.

"Matieu! Where have you been all day? Do you have any idea how worried your brother and I were?"

Matthew couldn't help but shoot Alfred a scathing look while he shouldered his way out of his Uncle's grip.

"Uncle I was fine… and Al knew where I was… I-I went to go play some hockey with Ivan."

At the mention of the Russian student, Francis turned to look over at the imposing figure that was standing off by himself, waiting in line to talk to a nurse.

"Stay RIGHT here Mathieu! And Alfred" His Uncle turned to address his brother. "Don't let your Mathieu out of your sight." He told him before releasing his nephew and walking over to join the foreign student.

Matthew wasn't able to hear what was being said between the two, but whatever it was, it was enough to convince Ivan to vacate his spot in the line and return to the seating area where the twins now stood.

"Sit…" Francis ordered when he had returned. When only Ivan moved to comply, Francis clarified sternly. "…ALL of you… sit!"

Matthew quickly sat down in response to the serious tone in his Uncle's voice, unconsciously grabbing the seat next to Ivan, with Alfred faithfully on his other side.

He watched as Francis began to pace, almost as if he was about to give out marching orders, but Matthew recognized it for the nervous action that it was. Francis had never particularly been comfortable in these kinds of situations.

"Ivan, your father…"

"Grandfad'der…" Ivan corrected quietly.

Francis threw him a strange look before continuing.

"Sorry, Grandfather. You're Grandfather, he's currently upstairs having open heart surgery. Do you understand what that means?" Seeing the blank unsure look on the face of the large student, Francis took a deep calming breath before continuing. "It means that… that… this is a very serious procedure, usually something planned months in advance, but because of what happened; he has to be operated on now. Do you... do you have a number to call your parents? They should be told what's happened. The doctors aren't sure how long this is going to take… or what the outcome is going to be…."

Ivan didn't bother replying; only turning his head sadly in the direction of the large double doors that led to where his Grandfather was currently being cut open like a science experiment. His shoulders were tense, and it almost looked like he was ignoring the Frenchman completely, when in truth he was hanging on to his every word.

Seeing all this, Matthew uncharacteristically spoke up in order to save Ivan from having to say the kind of things he knew the Russian would have troubles expressing. His voice wasn't as quiet or as tentative as normal, drawing strength in a way from having to watch over the other young man.

"Uncle… I don't think... Ivan has anyone else here in Canada; I think it's just him and his Grandfather."

Francis shot Matthew a surprised look; he wasn't at all used to his shy nephew choosing to address him, especially not with when his brother Alfred was there to speak for him.

"Crisse" Francis swore, realizing the many implications of Matthew's statement. The least of which was Ivan's status in the country should his grandfather not survive. The young man was mostly likely still here under his Grandfather's citizenship status.

"What about his family back in Russia, maybe they can do something."

Ivan merely shook his head no, his eyes dropping to stare at his knees while knitting his hands together in a painfully tight grip.

Francis rubbed his tired face in frustration, and Matthew was feeling the tension from all three men around him.

"Ivan…" his uncle eventually ground out as he made a decision. "We are not going to learn anything in the next few hours; the operation just started not that long ago. I suggest you come back with us to our house for now to get some food, maybe some sleep… until we know more."

Ivan reacted strongly to this comment, his head shooting up with a look of disbelief written all over his face, his voice filled with determination. "No… I am sorry…but I stay…"

Matthew watched as his Uncle struggled with what to say or do in this unfamiliar situation, not truly knowing what to tell the distressed young man that he didn't know a thing about.

Matthew reached over to grasp Ivan's forearm in a sign of solidarity, and looked up at his Uncle square in the eyes. "I'm staying too Uncle, I'm not leaving until Ivan does."

Alfred's eyes watched his brother's movement with annoyance, and not surprisingly he piped up as well "And I'm not leaving without Mattie."

Realizing that there was no point in trying to reason with the worried young men, Francis reluctantly gave up his argument and sat down across from the three boys to reevaluate the situation.

"Ok... fine… we'll stay. But we might not learn anything until morning, so don't say I didn't warn you. And as for right now, if you can all PROMISE me to stay right here; I'll go leave this minute to get us some food… and some coffee… it's going to be a very long night."

Alfred leaned back into his seat with an equally determined expression on his face, although his eyes were following the path that Ivan's gaze took while looking at the impenetrable wall behind the nurse's station. Matthew had to wonder to himself if there was maybe more to Alfred's wanting to stay here than just to make sure he wasn't left alone with Ivan.

With resignation, Francis rose out of his seat, slapping his knees while he did so for good measure as he left to go make good of his word and fetch them all some dinner.

Matthew watched him walk away, up until his Uncle had completely crossed the room and was almost to the exit, before suddenly making a spontaneous decision, and running after him to gently pull at his sleeve, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

Matthew almost immediately regretted his action when the nervousness and feeling of disquiet he usually got around his Uncle forced its way up to the forefront whenever he was close enough to look up at the striking similarities between the older man and his mother.

They had the same eyes, same hair, same complexion, same French accent event... but…

…reluctantly Matthew had to admit… that was where the similarities ended.

Through everything that was going on, Francis had not once hesitated to put his own thoughts and desires aside to help Ivan out, even though he was a complete stranger in almost every way; much like he'd done for Alfred and himself not so many years ago.

Letting his Uncle's arm go, and speaking purposely on quiet so that only Francis could hear, Matthew bit his lip self-consciously before he finally found the words he needed to say

"Thank you Uncle Francis… for coming when Alfred asked… for trying to help…"

The smile that blossomed on Francis' face was so bright that you'd have thought that Matthew had just given him the greatest gift in the world, and to him, his nephew had done just that.

Francis reached up and gently smoothed away an unruly curl in Matthew's already wavy hair, his eyes sparkling with delight despite the grim scenario surrounding them. "Mon fils, I would always come… if either of you ever asked. And I would never hesitate to help your friends… or…" Francis tentatively asked the next question with a raised eyebrow, hoping that he'd not been mislead by Alfred earlier "or… a boyfriend?"

Matthew flinched at the question, not at all liking where this could lead. In truth he didn't know what Ivan was to him, but that wasn't really what Francis was getting at anyways.

Matthew had never revealed to his Uncle how he'd unwittingly caused the unhappy decline in his family just by being open enough to share just such a sentiment with his father. So it took an incredible amount of bravery now for Matthew to simply nod in answer to his Uncle's unspoken question.

But to his surprise, Francis did nothing more in response other than to sigh in satisfaction in some kind sign of relief, visibly thankful for Matthew's honesty… and to finally be let in just a bit into Matthew's normally closed off world.

If possible, Matthew's Uncle looked like he'd had a huge weight taken off his chest as he gazed affectionately down at his nephew.

"I will always be here for you Mathieu, please never tell yourself otherwise… No matter what happens or what has happened… we are family, n'est ce pas?"

Matthew pursed his lips tighter, almost afraid to show how much the words meant to him. "Yes… of course we are. I just… just… don't…"

Francis' smile faded a bit as it became rueful; he nodded to show that he unfortunately understood what the young man was trying so hard to say. "You just never expect me to stick around… do you?"

Matthew didn't bother denying it, swallowing the sudden lump he felt in his throat as his Uncle griped him on the shoulder sympathetically. "It'll be alright Mathieu… I may not always understand everything that is going on… or everything that has happened to both of you… but please don't ever confuse that with indifference on my part."

Francis reached up to tap Matthew gently under the chin, a genuine open hearted smile once again gracing his face. "I may not be the best 'father figure' in the world, but I'm hoping with… more practice… I might get better."

Matthew's eyes turned sad as he quickly glanced back to his brother and Ivan, both of whom were watching them with great curiosity even though they were unable to catch the conversation.

He turned back to face Francis, suddenly and painfully reminded of all the things his young Uncle had sacrificed and given up in his once carefree life in order to keep their small family together and became a single 'father'.

"I… I think you've been doing a pretty good job as one… s-so far…" Matthew admitted shyly, unable in anyway to look up to see the shocked expression on his Uncle's face. "At least… you're the best one I've ever had…"

Feeling suddenly too vulnerable in his already emotionally charged day, Matthew knew he'd had enough, and he quickly turned to take his leave and to walk back to his brother before Francis could say a thing in reply.

By the time he did look back, Matthew could just make out his Uncle on the other side of the glass windows as he was walking back to the parking lot. But all the exhaustion that had previously shown itself so clearly in his every movement was now replaced by a small spring in his step.

XXXXXX

It was now well into the early hours of the next morning, and the quiet tense atmosphere was almost palpable in the sterile, anxiety filled Waiting Room.

By now the vast majority of the other patients and their family members had gone home, and the only ones who remained were the night shift nurses and themselves

The sound of a clock pendulum could be heard swinging back and forth as loud as if it there were someone banging on a drum right there in front of them.

And Ivan could not in any way take his eyes off of the hypnotic motion of the clock.

tic…tic… tic

As Matthew's Uncle had predicted, they had now been there for well over six or seven hours, and the only news that they had heard was that the initial operation was over, but that his Grandfather was still as unstable as when they'd arrived. The doctors were presumably still doing what they could…. And as for Ivan… well, all he could do was wait...

His body betrayed him as a loud yawn escaped his throat; the noise causing the young man beside him, who was fast asleep and slumped down low in his chair, to become restless enough to reposition himself. The effort was wasted however, and only ended up with Matthew's head and torso falling gently to the side until it intercepted with Ivan's upper arm.

Glancing down at the blonde student as Matthew sleepily nudged his arm with his head until it was in a more comfortable position, Ivan watched as he once again returned to the land of deep sleep.

He was soon following the example of his Uncle who currently lay across 4 empty bench seats not so far from them, using his winter pea coat as makeshift pillow.

Despite Ivan's inner turmoil and his seeming inability to stop thinking about what was happening upstairs or what the future was going to hold… Ivan couldn't help but take advantage of the distraction that Matthew provided him. He carefully reached over with his free hand to lightly trace the full parted lips that were releasing warm shallow breaths, his chest growing tight while he did so.

Mesmerized as always by the sight; Ivan slowly moved his fingers gently across the pale cheek to catch a stray lock. He let himself enjoy the sensation of the silky hair as it slipped between his fingers; forcing himself finally to let go as he tucked the wayward hair behind Matthew's ear, and trailed his fingers back along the underside of his jaw.

A loud cough alerted Ivan to another's presence and the Russian looked up with a sense of guilt and worry as he saw Alfred standing irritably before him, having returned from his trip to secure more coffee for himself.

Ivan wasn't quite sure how the jealousy prone sibling was going to react, but to his surprise, Alfred managed only to make a sour expression before offering him one of the two cups he held in his hand.

"Here… I thought you could use some caffeine." Alfred said nonchalantly as he took a seat directly across from where Ivan sat, all the while not once taking his eyes off of the sight of his brother who was still sound asleep.

"T'anks…" Ivan said as he took a much needed sip from the still piping hot coffee.

For a while, Ivan was positive that the young man wasn't going to say anything else, an eerie quiet settling between the both of them. But Alfred apparently had other ideas, and a few things to get off of his chest.

"You know… I really can't figure out what it is about you… I mean…" Alfred started to blather a bit, his one hand flailing slightly as his brows scrunched in confusion. "Until you showed up… Mattie would never have… well he'd never have played a game of one on one with a complete stranger… or let someone else, besides me… get that… that close…" Alfred nodded reluctantly in the direction of Matthew's prone figure, his knees now curled up on the bench so as to properly use the Russian as a pillow.

"And I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm ok with it… because I really, really not… b-but… I also really love my brother, more than… more than sometimes I think it's even possible to love another human being… b-but you know what… maybe that's just to make up for all the people that hated him when we were growing up. So if… this… whatever it is, is what he wants…w-well I guess it's fine then… I… suppose…" Alfred ended his speech, looking down at his own coffee in a sulk, a pout clearly displayed on his lips.

Despite the mixed messages in his rambling speech, Ivan couldn't help but feel his expression suddenly relax a bit, some of the tension he felt evaporating as a small smile appeared on his face.

"I'm glad… very… very glad" Ivan replied slowly… but with sincerity.

"Yeah well… don't get too cocky about it. You may end up breaking his heart… or he'll wake up and realize he's too good for a big goon like you… or something… And then you'll be gone… but me, I'll always be here for my brother. I'm never going anywhere."

Alfred eyed the Russian warily as he said this, but his tone was more to hide the awkwardness of the moment, then to give any real insult.

At the sight of the uncomfortable young man in front of him, Ivan's smile split into a one sided grin, the severity of the situation momentarily forgotten as he took the small advantage he had over the person who'd both terrorized him and saved his Grandfather all in one day.

"Brud'der… hmmm…" Ivan drawled out, a small spark in his eyes as he raised his brows in challenge. "I've never had brud'der before, maybe I like to have one too."

Alfred's eyes went wide as he nearly dropped the coffee into his lap. He quickly scrambled up to start pacing in annoyance around to the other side of the bench.

"Whoa… whoa… whoa! Let's not ring the damn wedding bells just yet. Jesus Ivan… Mattie's still new to all of this… a-and… I'm still… new to all of this… s-so you just take it slow… alright…" Alfred stopped suddenly to once again peer down at his brother, his eyes growing sad as his tone became thoughtful. "Don't… make this happen any faster than it has to… for both our sakes…" he said quietly.

The teasing quality to Ivan's voice disappeared, and he nodded respectfully up at Alfred, while following the other man's gaze to the sleeping figure next to him.

"Da… slow…" Ivan agreed easily, much to Alfred's great relief.

After all, Ivan thought to himself, he had no intention of going anywhere any time soon. So they could certainly afford to take it as slow as they needed to, if that was what Matthew wanted…. If _he_ was what Matthew wanted…

Ivan was so lost in his new train of thought that he almost forgot where he was, or why he was there when a new voice called out his name over at the nurses' station. He jolted so abruptly that spilled some of the now luke warm coffee all over his hand and at the same time jostled Matthew wide awake.

"Mr. Braginski… if you could please come this way, the doctor will see you now."

Ivan wasted no time in jumping up from his seat, practically running all the way to the door, only slowing down a bit when he felt Matthew following close behind him.

Matthew had trailed along without really knowing what was going on, his eyes still not fully open from being asleep.

Alfred stayed sitting on the benches with his still sleeping Uncle, a grim expression set on his face that had nothing to do with his brother following after Ivan, and everything to do with finding out the news about the man he'd earlier tried to save.

The nurse looked over at both of them apologetically as she held up a hand to stop them from entering. "I'm sorry sir, but only relatives are allowed past this point."

Matthew looked back and forth between Ivan and the nurse, his expression letting Ivan know that he wasn't about to let him face this alone, even if he wasn't quite sure how to convince the nurse of that.

"I-I… need to come along… Ivan doesn't speak any English… I have to translate for him." Matthew tried, but the nurse only shot Matthew a disbelieving look, mostly because Ivan had already spoken earlier for updates with the nurses several times that evening.

"Ok… hardly any English…" Matthew conceded.

"And you speak Russian?" The nurse began to ask dubiously but stopped herself when she saw the helpless worried look on Matthew's face, and the unreadable expression that was written all over Ivan's.

Relenting, she shuffled both anxious young men behind the dividing doors. "Fine, you're his translator…. Please follow me this way."

Ivan didn't hesitate to listen, and anxiously kept in step with the nurse ahead of him with Matthew not far behind.

The long corridors stretched out indefinitely as the trio passed silently by the night workers and the few patients still awake. But before long, the nurse slowed her steps as they neared a female doctor carefully going over some charts with another nurse. She looked to be in her fifties, and was still partially dressed in a set of blue scrubs that had been used in the earlier operation.

Upon seeing Ivan, her voice trailed off and she lowered her clipboard in order to stand up straighter and properly address the young man approaching her.

"Mr. Braginsky, I believe you are the patient's grandson?" She quickly checked her charts to verify the information.

Ivan nodded his head, unconsciously reaching back to grip Matthew's upper arm to steady himself for the news.

Rubbing her chin in thought, the doctor tapped the clipboard once more with her pen before looking back up at the tall student. "As you know, your grandfather suffered a severe heart attack, and unfortunately this then led to an unsafe collapse down a staircase causing his cranium to break open and be exposed."

Ivan didn't know exactly what the doctor was saying, but he'd been filled in enough to know the situation up until to this point.

"We were forced to perform an open heart surgery, as well as do some emergency reconstruction on the left side of his frontal lobe…" Her voice trailed off when she physically saw the blood draining from Ivan's face, his grip so tight on Matthew's arm that he had no doubt it would leave bruises, although Matthew made no movement to pull away.

The doctor's voice turned a touch more sympathetic when she realized that the young man was in no condition to be hearing about the medical details, and she suspected he was starting to show some early signs of shock.

"Mr. Braginsky if you could please have a seat." She told him while pointing to a chair next to the wall. She was afraid by the look of his overly pale cheeks that the young man might be at risk of passing out at any moment.

"Barring the possibilities of a few post-operational infections that we'll be looking for, you're grandfather's going to make it. He regained consciousness an hour ago from the sedatives. We just had to monitor his revival and help to stabilize him before we could bring you in to see him… but he_ is_ awake now."

The vast majority of what the doctor had just said went clear over Ivan's head, but he understood the most important words, and the tenseness inside him snapped like a tight drawstring being cut as Ivan pulled down on Matthew's arm to keep himself from falling forward, those four miraculous words repeating themselves over and over in his mind.

'He is awake now.'

Seeing the visible relief on the young man's face, the Doctor hesitated before continuing. "I'm afraid there have been some side effects from your grandfather having a second heart attack so soon after the first one. There appears to be some paralysis in his lower limbs, and at the moment we can't confirm how severe it is, or what the long-term effects could be."

Ivan's head snapped up to look at the doctor square in the eyes, his earlier anxiety replaced with some confusion. "Second attack?"

The Doctor returned to her notes to refresh herself of the details before replying. "Yes… he suffered a first attack several months ago, the cause listed here as mixture of high blood pressure as well as severe stress categorized under 'family related'. There were no apparent side effects, and he was released shortly after with a strict prescription regime to prevent any future occurrences, as well as orders to refrain from any stressful situations that could cause a relapse."

Yet again, many of the medical terms escaped Ivan, but he did understand the gist of what the Doctor was trying to tell him, and he felt like she'd just punched him in the stomach.

It was now obvious that his Grandfather had chosen to keep a few things hidden away from him in the past few months, and the result was that Ivan had managed to almost send his Grandfather to an early grave… not only once… but as it turned out, for a second time.

"I… v'ould like to see him… please." Ivan calmly asked with as much composure as he could muster at that moment, not wishing to discuss this any further before seeing his Grandfather with his own eyes.

The Doctor silently followed his wishes, and pointed to the room that they were all standing in front of.

Matthew, who had been silent up to this point, gently reached down to grab Ivan's free hand with his own, both in support, but also so that Ivan's other hand would release his now very sore arm.

Matthew then opened the door for both of them, and without asking for the Doctor's permission, closed it behind them before either of the medical professionals could follow them in.

Ivan showed no emotion what so ever as he surveyed the machines and tubes that were hooked up to his grandfather in one way or another, the beeping sounds fading into the background like white noise. He could feel Matthew nudging him forward, and his feet obeyed the silent command, even when his brain could no longer manage to make the decision on its own.

The lights had been turned down low, most likely to encourage the patient to get some sleep, but Ivan was thankful for the darkness that allowed him to hide somewhat from the wide open eyes that were watching him slowly approach.

Ivan swallowed whatever words he had wanted to say, and licked his dry lips before he pressed them tightly together. He watched as his grandfather managed a small smile when he recognized his only grandson, and in a raspy voice he greeted him in Russian.

"Vanya… I'm so happy you're ok… I was so worried…" His started, but his smile wavered when he saw the young man flinch from the ironic comment. Watching as Ivan's eyes harden and he cast his Grandfather an accusing look.

"Grandfather… why didn't you tell me… about your heart… about what had had happened?" Ivan's voice was barely above a whisper, but the hurt laced in the words caused his grandfather to shake his head sadly in return.

"Oh my Little Ivan…" was the equally quiet reply. "What must you think of me to ask such a question? How could I have possibly… burdened you with even one more thing in your life to cause you to concern? When all this time you have been trapped in such darkness… I had only ever wanted to try and give you some light…"

Ivan could feel the tears beginning to sting his eyes, and he unconsciously pulled Matthew's hand tightly to his chest to use as some kind of life line, too afraid to reach over and grab hold of his Grandfather's own weak hand lying unmoving on the bed.

His grandfather's fingers twitched on the blanket as his dark eyes turned away to look into the dark corners of the room.

"Ivan… I didn't know… I don't know how to save you, I don't even know if you can be saved, but you can't blame me for wanting to try. I had even thought that you were maybe… getting a little better… and I was going to tell you about my bad heart… but then you started to pull away again. And… you are just so… very unhappy here."

"When you didn't show up after your class… I was so scared that you had finally succeeded in doing what you had failed to do back in Russia. You always keep everything from me… and I can't… I can't help but worry about you… every second of the day." His grandfather finished speaking, the drugs possibly loosening his tongue to say a few things that he hadn't meant to reveal.

"B-but… Grandfather… I-I… worry about you too…" Ivan choked out, the words a mix of anger and anguish. "Yes, I miss my home… I miss Father… I miss my sisters… b-but when you left when I was a child… I missed you too… and I don't know… if I could stand to go say goodbye a second time."

His Grandfather turned back to looked at Ivan, a tiny smile inching across his lips in the grim lowlight, a small wave of happiness washing through the old man as he heard the rare words of affection from his stoic grandson.

And it was only then that the older man noticed a second presence in the room, that of the shorter blonde hiding somewhat in the darkness behind Ivan. His grandfather narrowed his eyes in contemplation as he observed the smaller hand clutched tightly in Ivan's own.

Dmitri's mind quickly thought back to where he'd last seen the young man before, as well as to some of the more recent tense conversations he'd had with his Grandson… and suddenly it was like a light switch had been turned on as realization hit him.

The reasons for his grandson's sudden secrecy over where he'd been spending his time, his recent unpunctuality, his nervousness, anger and odd behavior over certain subjects… certain people. It was suddenly as clear as if it had been laid out before him.

In that one moment the old man wished for nothing more than to have the strength to sit up and hit his young grandson sharply on the back of his head as he let out cry of dismay.

"Oh Vanya… my foolish, young grandson… why didn't you just _tell_ me. I had thought… I had thought such horrible, horrible things… and all that time… you were just… just falling in love?"

Ivan's eyes went wide and he immediately dropped the hand he'd been holding, instinctively creating some distance between himself and Matthew who stared back in complete confusion over either the conversation, or the revelation.

"No… I-I… I just… I didn't want to… I…." Ivan's voice babbled incoherently as his Grandfather let out a weak raspy chuckle, obviously just barely hanging on from the strong medication currently running through his veins. He turned his gaze to the startled blonde and addressed him in English.

"Young Man… what is your name."

Matthew's eyes became nearly as wide as Ivan's as he stuttered out a reply. "Uhm… I-I'm M-matthew."

The old man smiled kindly, and while his body was broken, his heart now felt healthy, hopeful, and almost carefree for the first time in a long, long while.

"Hello Matthew, My name is Dmitri Zima… and I'm probably going to go to sleep right now… but when I wake up… I expect you to be here, along with my grandson. And you and I… we are going to have a good long discussion."

XXXX.

The weeks that followed after Ivan's grandfather had nearly died, passed by relatively quickly. Not nearly enough time for the many wounds, both external and internal, to have properly healed… but it was still an improvement from before.

The doctor had unfortunately been proven right in her assessment, and Ivan's grandfather had indeed suffered some paralysis, now being confined to a wheelchair, as well as to the first level of his town house while he waited for home improvements to make things more accessible.

But you'd never be able to tell he was suffering in anyway by the cheerful manner he continued to greet Matthew whenever he showed up at the house, or the genuine smile that graced his features whenever he looked adoringly at his grandson.

Ivan rarely liked to talk about his past, or things involving what had led to the accident, but he had quietly admitted to Matthew one day that it was like his Grandfather had washed away all the sadness and fear he'd been carrying around with him, that he didn't need to… worry so much anymore.

In a way, Matthew felt a similar thing could be said about his own family. While he was by no means incredibly close to his Uncle, something had changed slightly in their understanding of each other that day at the hospital… there was an acceptance now on Matthew's part… or… at least some kind of understanding.

And that was not such a bad beginning, something to maybe build the sort of relationship he knew his Uncle so desperately craved.

And then there was Alfred…

To say that his brother had welcomed Ivan in with open arms would be an outright lie… but he was no longer pulling Matthew away from him either. Although he did tend to insult the Russian every chance he got, something Ivan took surprisingly in good stride. It was even Alfred who had been one of the first people to visit Mr. Zima after he'd been let out of the hospital.

By now the weather had officially turned cold, and any leaves that had not been cleared away, were crystallized in the morning frost.

Matthew was currently sitting on one of the benches in the campus tree line pathway that he'd starting going to every morning after being dropped off by his Uncle. It was here that he would wait with his brother for Ivan to arrive at school before the beginning of class.

His twin sat closely beside him, repeatedly drilling into his head 'important instructions' about where Matthew could meet up with him after he'd finished having coffee with Ivan that morning.

In truth he was barely paying attention to his brother as his eyes scanned the horizon for the familiar sight of a long trench coat and a pale scarf wrapped around a thick neck.

But his stomach did a worried flip when he heard his brother make a passing comment that made his blood run a bit cold, it was made so quietly that Matthew had almost not even heard it.

"After class… I'll meet you back at the house, I'm going to make my own way home."

Matthew stopped in his search for Ivan to look over at his brother in confusion and a good deal of trepidation. "But we have hockey practice after class… our first game's only a few weeks away."

Alfred looked sheepish, and avoided his brother's gaze completely. "Well… thing is… I was kinda kicked off the team for that little stunt I pulled on Ivan…" Alfred quickly put up his hand before Matthew could truly start to panic by throwing out ideas of how he was going to convince the coach of something… anything to change his mind.

"B-but I was thinking, hockey is kinda getting boring, so I kinda signed up for this thing after school that conflicted with hockey practice anyways. It's an intro to Emergency Medical training, just some first aid stuff… you know… just to see if I would interested in that sort of thing… so maybe… if you wanted to, you could just stay on the hockey team while I did… _that_… instead"

Matthew sat there stunned… positively stunned as he looked at his brother with utter disbelief. The mere fact that Alfred had managed to let him go off with Ivan just for their morning coffee breaks and a few visits to Mr. Zima's house had been a huge show of trust on Alfred's part… but this…. this was something else entirely.

"Damn it Mattie, you don't have to look so surprised. You were always better at that stupid game than I was anyways." His brother said petulantly. "I kept telling you we should have just signed up for the baseball team…"

"I-I… sure Al… I would… really like that… a lot actually…" Not knowing what else to say, Matthew threw his arms around his brother, his wool mitts grasping together tightly behind his brother's back "Thanks Al…"

While deep in the embrace, he felt more than heard another presence walk up behind him, and he looked up in time to catch the gloating look his brother was casting over at Ivan as he held him in his arms.

"Well, looks like the Red Army has arrived to steal you away Mattie… see if you can teach him some damn English while you off being corrupted or whatever it is the two of you do when you're alone… scratch that… I really, really don't want to know."

Matthew playfully swatted at his brother's head, smiling brightly at Ivan who was giving his brother a lopsided frown, irritation plain in his eyes.

"Da Da, I corrupt your brud'der…" Ivan retorted sarcastically in annoyance as he waved his hand dismissively before flashing Alfred a malevolent grin "But only 'cause he likes me to do so."

Alfred practically snarled as he pushed away, his hands moving to cover his ears "Enough… I don't want to hear another word you depraved bastard. Mattie, just take your big oaf of a boy toy away from me… and don't be late for class again, I'm warning you… I won't cover for you a second time."

Matthew wasn't quite sure who to be more annoyed with at that moment, but decided it didn't matter too much when he felt Ivan reach over to wrap his arm around his waist, pulling him in close so as to give him a small kiss on the cheek, partially in hello, but mostly to annoy Alfred.

"Oh for… god… just go already." Alfred exclaimed as he began to walk away in disgust.

Matthew sighed in exasperation, shaking his head in mock disapproval at both of the young men. But he didn't really mean it, and showed this be turning into Ivan's embrace and reaching up grasp his chin lightly between his fingers. Then pushing up onto his toes, he gently guided Ivan's lips down for a single sweet kiss.

When they had separated and Matthew had settled back onto his feet, Matthew jerked his head in the direction of the Ice Rink; his intentions instantly becoming clear to Ivan when he saw a familiar competitive glow flare up in the violet-blue eyes.

"Play?" Matthew asked, slightly mocking the words Ivan had so ineloquently spoken to him when they'd first met.

But the large student was far from insulted, and was more than willing to meet the unspoken challenge for yet another battle on the ice.

"Da… play."

XXXX

THE END

XXXX

YAY… it's over… my GW readers are going WTF, you never finish those stories. I'm notorious for not writing last chapters. As any writer knows, it's really hard to try and wrap up things (maybe a part of you doesn't want to either). BUT I did it… so YAY

I'm close to 100 reviews too, so fingers crossed J

Probably going to do a one shot later on for Alfred, and his fumbling attempts at his new job.

But for now REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW! Let me know that I didn't just waste away those evenings for my own amusement (although, I still had fun writing this either way

Also, everyone check out my new story… because… please … it'll make me happy.

Title: A Little Drop of Poison  
>Pairings: RusCan (others later)<br>Sum: Trapped in a unforgiving land and forced to rely on a king who'd as soon see him banished away for all time. Matthew must learn to survive in in a world that is not his own, and where every man, woman, child and creature is after the taste of his blood.

Link: http:/ www. fanfiction. net/s/7170182/1/bA_b_bLittle_b_bDrop_b_of_bPoison_b


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